


Eternal Flame: Part 1

by Pandoras_hope



Series: The Awakening [2]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Lesbian Character, Mother-Daughter Relationship, POV Lesbian Character, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-01-28 02:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12595760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandoras_hope/pseuds/Pandoras_hope
Summary: Rory Gilmore and Paris Geller now have a tenuous friendship after starting school as enemies two years ago.  As Paris navigates senior year of high school, Rory is there for her in a way no one else has ever been.  Rory has a secret past that no one at school knows about.  Can they finally learn to trust each other?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of The Awakening. We begin with Season 3 Episode 1, when Rory and Paris are in Washington D.C. for student government. Dialogue is lifted from the show, everything else is my interpretation. Thank you for reading!

Rory’s summer in Washington D.C. turned out to be amazing.  She met so many Senators, Representatives, members of Congress, even foreign dignitaries.  She felt important and productive.  She had already filled numerous journals with descriptions of her experiences, plus all of her letters to Lorelai and Lane.  But as she neared the end of her time there she found she was ready to go.  She missed her mom and Stars Hollow, and she was tired of sitting up at her desk night after night staring at a blank page on which she’d only been able to write two words all summer:   _ Dear Jess, _ .

She hadn’t heard a word from Jess.  Not that she’d expected to, but even here in this new place away from everything familiar she felt Jess’ absence like a constant ache.  She knew she’d made the right decision, but that didn’t make it any easier.  

“Woodward. . .Bernstein. . .Harry Thomason.”  Paris mumbled from the bed across from where Rory sat.  Luckily she and Paris had been getting along fine the whole time.  Feeling important and having a rigorous schedule worked wonders for Paris’ disposition.  She was truly in her element here, grilling everyone she met about policy and procedure.  “I did not have sexual relations with that woman!”  She rolled over in her sleep and Rory had to fight to keep from laughing aloud.  Paris’ sleep-talking was the most entertainment she had up here.  That and Lorelai’s late-night phone calls asking Rory to help her interpret another bizarre dream she’d had.

The next morning they attended a breakfast mixer with members of Congress and the Senate.  Paris immediately honed in on the first Senator she saw.

“I mean, come on, Senator Boxer, as one of our foremost Democratic leaders, I ask you – do you really think it looks good to have the American Secretary of the Treasury traveling around with Bono? I mean, I know apparently he’s a saint, he’s going to save the world, yada, yada, yada, but my God! He never even takes the sunglasses off. We have an image to maintain, don’t we? I mean, aren’t we at least trying to pretend we’re the superpower in this world? I mean, why not just send Carson Daly over to the Middle East next time Cheney goes, huh? Or hey, hook up Freddie Prinze Jr. with Colin Powell next time he meets with NATO. I mean, hell! Let’s hear what Freddie has to say, right?”  
Rory watched with mirth as the senator squirmed under Paris’ diatribe.  Then a congressman walked by and caught Paris’ attention.  
“Ose, right?”  Paris called after him while Senator Boxer made her escape.  
“Yes that’s right.” the congressman shook Paris' hand.  
“Let’s take a walk.” Paris steered him away from them.  
Rory smiled and shook her head while filling up a cup of coffee.  Jamie, one of the student council leaders from another school, joined her.  
“Last day!”  He greeted her.  “So, in your opinion, how was our nation’s capital?”  
“Well, I got to see Archie Bunker’s chair at the Smithsonian Museum, so it was a big thumbs up for me.”  Rory answered.  
“Yes, there are times when this country’s priorities are exactly right. So, where’s Paris?”  
“Hm, not quite sure. Last time I saw her, she was beating the will to live out of our nation’s representatives.”  
“She is a hammer, isn’t she?”  Jamie smiled with obvious admiration.

“Actually, she’s the entire toolbox.”  Rory agreed just as Paris joined them.  
“Damn. I always seem to catch the most interesting politicians right when they have to use the bathroom.”  She complained.  “Hey Jamie.”  
“Hi Paris. Just came over to let you know I got a little sneak peak at the final debate pairings for today. It seems like you and I are going to be on the same side this time.”  
“You’re kidding! You’d think they’d like to give someone else a fighting chance for once.”  
“Apparently not.”  Jamie grinned.  
“God, I love this. You don’t realize how unqualified most of America’s youth is until you gather them all up in a room and make them speak. So, who are we up against?”  
“Jason Roundsevault and Ty Fredericks.”  
“Perfect. Jason’s got asthma and Ty cries.”  Paris grinned back at him.  
“Okay, so we should meet early and go over strategy, make sure you bought enough Kleenex.”  
“Sounds good.”  
“And then tonight we should get together and celebrate over dinner.”  Paris didn’t seem to notice the glint in Jamie’s eyes as he spoke.  
“What if we don’t win?”  She asked.  
“Don’t lose it on me now.”  
“You’re right.”  Paris nodded.  
“So, dinner?”  He asked again.  
“Sure.”  
“Good, I’ll swing around for you about seven.”  
“Fine.”  
“Okay, see you at the slaughter.”  Jamie walked away with a distinct spring in his step.  
“Oh my god!”  Rory exclaimed to Paris after he was gone.  
“Yeah, can you imagine pairing me with Jamie? I mean, why not just line the hallways with self esteem counselors right now.”  
“Um, Paris?”  
“What?”  
“What do you mean what? Jamie just asked you out on a date!”  
“He did not.”  Paris rolled her eyes.  
“Yes, he did. You’re having dinner with Jamie tonight.”  
“It’s a victory dinner, that’s it.”  She shrugged.  
“Paris, if he just wanted to celebrate winning a debate, you guys could’ve had coffee afterward, but he asked you out on a date.”  
“He did?” Paris looked genuinely shocked.  
“Yes.”  
“Well did I accept?”  
“Yes.”  
“I’m going on a date?”  
“Yes, you are.”  
“Oh man, I can’t believe this!  I finally get asked out on a date and I missed it?" She slumped into the nearest chair. "Was it a good ask-out?”

“It was a very good ask-out.”  Rory told her.  
“God, I wish I’d been there.”  She shook her head sadly.  
“Well, you’ll be there tonight.”  Rory reassured her.  
“Tonight? Tonight I have a date. Tonight I have a date with Jamie – a Princeton man. I can overlook that. Oh my God, I can’t believe it. . .I have a date.”  
Rory patted her on the shoulder as she stared off into the distance, stunned.

 

That evening Rory was on the phone with her mom discussing her return to Stars Hollow.  

“My plane gets in at three.”  Rory told Lorelai.  
“Red, purple, green – where the hell is it?”  Paris grumbled as she ransacked her closed.  
“That gives me three hours to look presentable for Friday night dinner.”  Rory continued. “Hm, perhaps I’ll go blonde.”  
“I’ll buy the hair dye for you just to see the look on Mom’s face!”  Lorelai crowed.  
“I miss you Mom.”  
“I miss you too, kid.”  
“Hey, hey, stop being cute. I need help here!”  Paris cried.  
“I have to go. Paris is melting down.”  
“What is it this time?”  Lorelai asked.  
“She has a date tonight.”  
“Really?”    
“Don’t sound so surprised.”  Paris called.    
“How do you know she sounded surprised?”  Rory asked her.  
“Because I’m a genius, Rory. I have deep and powerful clairvoyant abilities.”  Paris snapped.  
“Oh boy.”  
“For example, I can instantly deduce that when someone hears the name Paris in the same sentence with the word date, jaws will drop, confused looks will cover faces, words like ‘how’ and ‘why’ and ‘Quick, Bob, get the children in the minivan because the world is obviously coming to an end!’ will immediately fly out of people’s mouths.”  
“I have to go.”  Rory said again.  
“Are you sure it’s safe?”  Lorelai quipped.  
“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you Friday.”  
“See you Friday!”    
Rory hung up the phone.  
“That’s it, I’m shaving my head.”  Paris announced.  
“Okay, Paris, you have got to calm down.”  
“I had a black sweater and now it’s gone.”  
“I’m not just talking about right now – in general, you need to calm down.”  
“He’s almost here, I’m not dressed, my makeup’s not done, and I haven’t gone through the Zagat yet to pick out a restaurant.”  
“Why don’t you just let him pick out the restaurant?”  
“What if he doesn’t have a Zagat?”

“Well, then he’ll wing it.”  
“Wing it?”  Paris scoffed.  “How come other girls get planned-out dinners? Flowers, candy, rose petals thrown on the floors – and I get wing it?”  
“Well, you don’t know that you’ve got wing it.”  
“No, I do. I’ve got wing it. I can’t do this.”  She was on the verge of hyperventilating.  
“What?”  Rory took her by the shoulders and guided her toward a chair.  
“Date. I can’t date. I’m not genetically set up for it.”  
“Not true.”  
“I get no pleasure out of the prospect or the preparation. I’m covered in hives, I’ve showered four times, and for what? Some guy who doesn’t even have the brains to buy a Zagat so we don’t wind up in a restaurant that’s really just a front for a cocaine laundering ring?”  
“Sit.”  
Paris obediently sat and Rory took out her make-up bag.  
“It’s a dare.”  Paris said.  “He was dared to take me out. I bet Trent Lott was behind this.”  
“Trent Lott did not dare Jamie to take you out. Close your eyes.”  Rory began applying a light shadow to Paris’ eyelids.  “Jamie likes you and he asked you out because he likes you. Now look up.”  She added mascara.  
“Maybe I shouldn’t go. I mean, what if I fall for him and he doesn’t like me?”  
“Then you’ll find someone else.”  
“But what if there is no one else?”  
“Then you’ll buy some cats.”  Rory knew there was no talking to her when she was like this.  
“I wish I knew if he was right for me, you know? So I don’t put myself through all of this for nothing. I mean, women fall for men who are wrong for them all of the time, and then they get sidetracked from their goals. They give up careers and become alcoholics and, if you’re Sunny von Bülow, wind up in a coma completely incapable of stopping Glenn Close from playing you in a movie.”  
“I think you should wear your hair down.”  Rory stood behind her and started brushing out her long blonde locks.  
“How do you know if a guy is right for you?”  Paris asked her earnestly.

Rory hesitated.  She didn’t know about finding the right _guy_ , but she knew how it felt when you met someone you just couldn’t stay away from, like two magnets drawn together.  She went on the assumption that it was the same for other people as it had been for her and Jess.  
“You just have to feel it.”  She answered honestly.  
“All I feel is my back breaking out.”  Paris sounded dismayed.  
“You’ll know, okay? You just have to let it happen. And then, probably when you’re not looking, you’ll find someone who compliments you.”   
“Meaning?”  
“Someone who likes what you like, someone who reads the same books or listens to the same music or likes to trash the same movies. Someone compatible.”  
“Okay.”  
“But not so compatible that they’re boring.”  Rory clarified.  
“Someone who’s compatible but not compatible?”  
“Yeah, kind of. I mean, you respect each other’s opinions and you can laugh at the same jokes, but I don’t know – there’s just something about not quite knowing what the other person’s gonna do at all times that’s just really exciting.”  Rory’s thoughts once again drifted to Jess and she felt the emptiness creeping back in.  “Look, just have a good time and you’ll figure it out.”  
“Yeah, well, I hope I figure it out fast. . .before I throw up.”  
Suddenly they heard a knock at the door.  Paris practically jumped out of her skin.  
“That’s him!”  She squeaked.  
“Turn around.”  Rory instructed.  
“Well?”  Paris bit her lip nervously.  
“Perfect.”  Rory told her.  
“Promise?”  
“Swear.”  
“Thanks! Now get in the closet.”  
“What?”  
“If he comes in here and sees you, he won’t wanna date me anymore.”  
“Paris, that’s crazy! He’s seen me – he’s seen both of us for weeks.”  
“Yes, in conferences, crowded lecture halls, badly-lit banquet rooms with crappy food smells, not at night when it’s dating time and he’s thinking about dating and you’re standing there looking all dateable.”  
“I’m not looking dateable.”    
“Please? I can’t risk it. At least if there’s nothing to compare me to, then I’ve got a fighting chance, please!”  
“Okay, but when you get home, you need to get a new therapist because the one you have is really not working.”  Rory squeezed into the closet and sat down.  
“Thanks for helping me get ready.”  
“Any time.”  Rory pulled her notebook out of her pocket and, using her booklight, once again stared down at that blank page. 

_ Dear Jess, _ .

  
  


Rory was making her way through Bradley International Airport when she heard a familiar voice call out.

“Hey Gilmore!”  Lorelai stood just outside security wearing a chauffer cap and holding a cardboard sign with _Gilmore_ scrawled across it.    
“Mom!”  She cried, and ran toward her.  They flew into each other’s arms and Rory’s carry-on became entangled with one of Lorelai’s many shopping bags.  They fell to the airport floor, laughing until they couldn’t breathe.  
“Ow, ow!”  Lorelai said between gasps of air, holding a hand to her side.  “Luckily there are video cameras everywhere that caught that very graceful moment on tape.”  
“I am so glad to see you!”  Rory told her.  
“No, I’m glad to see you!”  
“I’m never leaving home again.”  She promised.  
“Oh, that’s my emotionally stunted girl!”  They helped each other back up to standing. “Hey, I got you gifts.”  
“What?”  Rory was surprised.  “I’m the one that left town, I’m supposed to get you gifts.”  
“Oh, but I got here early and there was nothing to do except feed gummy bears to the bomb-sniffing dogs which, apparently, the United States government frowns upon.”  
“You got in trouble with the government while you were waiting for me?”  
“Just a little.”  
“How much is a little?”  
“Learn Russian. Okay, here you go.”  Lorelai handed her the first bag.  
“Wow a Hartford, Connecticut sweatshirt.”  Rory feigned gratitude.  
“Nice, huh?”  
“There’s also a Hartford, Connecticut notebook, pencil set, a shot glass-”  
“And beer mug!”  Lorelai interjected.  
“Hartford baguette, Hartford bear, Hartford sunglasses.”  
“You like?”  Lorelai asked her, grinning.  
“I love!”  Rory put the sunglasses on and the tag dangled in front of her nose.  She grinned at her mom, and they left the airport arm-in-arm.  It was good to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

Rory rolled over to shut her alarm off, then sat up in bed suddenly wide awake.  It was back to school today.  Then she startled as she noticed her mom sitting in the chair in the corner of her room.

“How long have you been sitting there?”  She demanded.  
“Not long.”  Lorelai answered.  “An hour. . .and a half.”  
“Why?”  
“Because.”  Lorelai walked over to the bed and sat down next to Rory.  
“‘Cause why?”  
“Because today is the last first day of high school you’re ever gonna have.”  

“You’re insane.”  
“I’m not insane, I’m just sentimental, and you’re grown.”  Lorelai’s voice broke slightly with emotion.  
“I’m not grown.”  
“Yes, you are, you’re all grown up and soon you’ll be going off into the world.”  
“Not yet.”  
“But soon. And after you spread those wings and fly away, I won’t have the opportunity to give you this.”  Lorelai handed her a piece of paper.  
“What is it?”  Rory asked, unfolding it.  
“It’s your bill.”  Lorelai grinned.  
“My what?”  Rory groaned.

“Yeah. I’ve been crunching the numbers, you know, adding up what you’ve cost me over the years – raising you, clothing you, feeding you, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.”  
“Mmhmm.”  Rory mumbled, humoring her.  
“Yes, I’ve itemized everything here by years and income ratio. I thought you could factor it into your student loan.”  
“I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Then I’ll direct your attention to item 42: water usage.”

“Oh boy.”  Rory shook her head and continued gathering her school clothes.  
“Also, one thing that’s painfully obvious here – you’ve used an extraordinary number of diapers.”  Rory was ignoring her now.  “Really, it’s cost a fortune. What were you using all those diapers for?”  
“I was building my ‘make Mommy go away’ castle.”  She retorted and headed toward the bathroom.  Lorelai followed right on her heels.  
“There goes my little vice president, off to rule the world.”  She cood.  
“Well, Paris will be ruling the world. I will be holding her keys.”  
“I’m still proud of you.”  
“I appreciate it.”  
“Honey, you have power, brains, now all you need is a dimwitted, drunken or drug-addicted relative to constantly humiliate you while you serve in office.”  
“Will you work on that for me?”  
“Two steps ahead of you.”  They grinned at each other, then went on getting ready for the day.

 

The first day of senior year passed in a blur.  They had more classwork than ever, and though it was only August they were already feeling the college application time crunch.  Plus, on top of the school newspaper and preparing for her SATs, Rory now had student council to worry about.

During homeroom, Rory had organized a meet-and-greet with the other Chilton student council members.  She had just finished setting up the donuts and coffee on the table when everyone arrived.  She waited for them all to take a seat and was about to introduce herself when Paris strode in.  It was clear by her expression that she was in business mode, and she did not disappoint.  She proceeded to launch into a lengthy tirade about how she intended to run things.  She barely took a breath in between sentences and every time Rory opened her mouth to interject Paris shot her a look that stopped her.  Finally she gave up.  
“Look, let’s face it, the last administration might have just as well been running around yelling ‘Toga!’ for all the brilliant things they accomplished. But this year – everything changes, starting with the library. It’s completely out of proportion with its subjects. I mean, there’s five hundred volumes on the French Revolution, yet only three on the Crusades. How do they expect us to get a decent education with inferior resources like that? Huh, seems like the hour’s almost up. Okay, well, I think this has been an extremely successful first gathering. I appreciate all the class presidents coming and being on time. So before I adjourn this meeting, is there anything anyone would like to say?”  
“People’s names might have been nice.”  Rory muttered.  
“Actually, I have something I’d like to put on the table to be discussed.”  Francie, the Senior Class President, stood and addressed Paris.  
“Oh, okay. Well, we only have a couple of minutes, so give us the Reader’s Digest version.”  Paris was clearly not in a listening mood, but Francie was not deterred.

“As president of the senior class, a certain problem has been brought to my attention. For the past thirty years, the Chilton regulations have stated that skirts must be no higher than three-quarters of an inch above the knee, that’s it. Any higher, the student gets written up. I propose to put to an immediate vote an amendment to raise hemlines an additional inch and a half.”  
“Hemlines?”  Paris scoffed.  
“That’s right.”  Francie answered, unperturbed.   
“That’s the major issue on the senior class’ mind?”  
“It’s one of the major issues, yes.”  
“Well, okay – thank you, Francie, for giving us something really important to mull over here. I anticipate a lot of sleepless nights for many of the people in this room. I will take that under advisement and get back to you as soon as I can.”  Rory didn’t miss the heavy sarcasm in Paris’ answer.  
“Oh, okay, fine. Thanks.”  
“Now, if that’s it, I officially call the first meeting of the Chilton student body presidents to a close. I’ll see you all Friday.”  Paris banged her gavel on the table and Rory thought she saw several of them jump at the sound.  
“What idiot gave her a gavel?”  Someone complained as they all started leaving.  
Rory, now fuming, approached Paris.  
“Okay, see, the whole point of having an informal ‘get to know you’ gathering was actually to have an informal ‘get to know you’ gathering.”  
“What’s your point?”  Paris snapped.  It seemed that their time getting along in Washington had come to an abrupt end.  
“You just spent an hour walking around talking about your agenda.”  
“I’m student body president – that’s my job.”  
“But we got donuts, and we didn’t touch the donuts. The donuts are still sitting next to the coffee that we never passed out. We were supposed to spend this time to talk, bond, get to know each other.”  
“Geez, Rory, we’ve been sitting in a room together for sixty minutes – what else do you want, a ring?”  
“Hi. Excuse me, Paris?”  Francie approached them.  “I just wanted to say on behalf of the entire senior class, congratulations on your win and I’m really looking forward to working very closely with you this year.”  She said in her high cloying voice.  
“Thanks.”  Paris returned without looking at her.  
“Okay. See you later. Bye Rory. You two are gonna make a great team.”  Rory resisted the urge to smack that ingratiating smile right off of her face.   
“Yes, the jerseys are coming on Friday.”  Paris then turned her attention to Rory.  “Okay, I’m gonna drop the demand for the librarian’s resignation tonight. You wanna read it before I send it?”  
“Are you sure the first thing you wanna do in office is to get a ninety-three year old woman sacked?”  Rory cautioned her.  
“Hey, at least I’m not putting her on an iceberg and shoving her off to sea, which, considering the fact that you can’t find the Shakespeare section without psychic powers yet the Cliffs Notes rack practically smacks you in the face on the way in, is totally justified.”  
“And we’re off.”  Rory had known that becoming Paris’ vice president was going to be a challenge, but she’d had no idea just how much.

 

After school was the first meeting of the school newspaper, the Franklin, of which Paris was still the editor.  
“Okay, so, let’s talk about Saturday.”  Paris began.  
“What about Saturday?”  Rory groaned.  
“I think we need to work. The seventy-fifth anniversary issue of the Franklin comes out next month and I want it to be amazing.”  
“I’ve got some great cover art lined up.”  Rory told her.  With Paris, it was always best to come prepared.  
“Old pictures, new pictures?”  
“Collage style with kind of a sepia-toned finish to it. Very classy.”  
“Okay, I like it.”  
“Wait, what are we talking about?”  Madeline asked as she and Louise joined them.  
“Working on the seventy-fifth anniversary issue this Saturday.”  Paris told her.  
“Thanks for asking.”  Louise smacked Madeline’s shoulder.  
“But you guys already have some decent stuff planned out, right?”  Madeline asked hopefully.  
“Madeline -- or may I call you Spicoli?”  Paris addressed her.  
“If you have to.”  She agreed.  
“This is the seventy-fifth anniversary issue. There is only going to be one seventy-fifth anniversary issue ever, and it’s on our watch. We screw this up and we basically mooned a piece of history. Is that what you want? To B.A. history?”  
“But I don’t understand. Last year was the seventy-fourth anniversary issue of the Franklin.”  
“So?”  
“So there’s only gonna be one seventy-fourth anniversary issue ever and we didn’t do anything special for it.”  
“I think the cover was of a deep-fried Mars bar.”  Louise interjected.  
“That’s because nobody cares about the seventy-fourth anniversary issue.”  
“I bet the person who worked on it seventy-four years ago did.”  
“We’re working Saturday!”  Paris screeched.  
Madeline and Louise cringed away from her and left, grumbling and complaining about their weekend being ruined.  
"’Why are we working Saturday, Paris? What’s so special about the seventy-fifth issue, Paris? Why does my head feel so light and yet not float away, Paris?’"  Paris mimicked them in a high voice as soon as they were gone.

“It’s our first day, cut them a little slack.”  Rory advised her.

“I’m not going to let their severely skewed priorities interfere with my legacy!”  Paris cried, and stomped off toward her car.  There was no reasoning with her.

Rory sighed heavily as she got on the bus to head home.  She hadn’t thought it was possible, but it seemed like Paris had become even more insufferable.  This was going to be a very long year.


	3. Chapter 3

The second week of school wasn’t much better than the first.  True to form, Paris did indeed convince the ninety-three-year-old librarian to resign.

“So as soon as she gets out of intensive care, we’ll get her signature, and then we can finally set about hiring a new librarian.”  Paris told the student council.  “And last but not least, I’ve decided that one meeting a week is not enough to accomplish everything I have set out to do this year, so we will now have a supplementary student council meeting every Wednesday.”  She glared at each of them in turn, daring them to argue.  Of course no one did.

“Um, excuse me, Paris?”  Francie finally spoke up.  “I was just wondering if you had time to think about my proposal?”  
“What proposal?”  
“You know, the higher hemlines.”  
“Oh right. No, not yet.”  
“Okay, I guess I can wait. . . for awhile.”  Her tone clearly implied that she was never going to drop this.

“Patience is a virtue.”  Paris answered, then ended the meeting.

 

It was no better at the Franklin meeting.  Paris insisted that they spend every Saturday that month working on the anniversary issue.  No one argued with her this time.   
  


 

On Saturday morning Rory sat with her mom watching the Brady Bunch Variety Hour.  
“This is sublime.”  Rory said in wonderment.  
“It was the golden age of television.”  Lorelai agreed.  
“The music, the costumes, the sets.”  
“All cylinders were fired on this one, boy!”  
“And who knew that they all had such musical talent?”  
“And such far out booty shaking abilities, as well.”  
Rory heard the mail drop through the mail slot and got up to see what was there.  
“Did you see that TV Guide had this on their list of the worst fifty shows of all time?”  She called over her shoulder as she walked.  
“I know! Who are they to judge?”  Lorelai called back.  
“I know, it’s on my top fifty best.”  
“Yeah, right after "Holmes and Yoyo" and "Hee Haw Honeys." Oh, Rory, get back here! They’re in clown suits and headed for the pool.”  
“Oh my God.”  Rory stared at the large white envelope in her hands.  
“I know it’s completely ridiculous, you’ve gotta see this.”  
“It’s here.”  Rory’s voice sounded hollow and far away.  
“What’s here?”  Lorelai sat up and looked behind her toward the door where Rory stood stunned.  
“My application to Harvard.”  
“Oh my God!”  Lorelai hurried over to Rory who had opened the envelope and begun reading the first page.  “It’s beautiful.”  
“Impressive letterage, huh?”  
“Oh, yeah, it’s so. . .”  
“Very.”  Rory nodded solemnly.  
“Can I hold it?”  
“Be careful.”  
“Oh, it’s heavy, heavy with importance.”  
“I feel dizzy.”  Rory slowly sunk back onto the couch.  
“Are you sure that’s not just the sight of Robert Reed in the tight clown pants?”  Lorelai joked.  
“Oh, geez. Let the record show that when my application to Harvard arrived, we were watching ‘The Brady Bunch Variety Hour.’”  
“You don’t lose points for that, do you?”  Lorelai sounded concerned.  
  
“I hope not. Man, earlier this morning I was reading Dead Souls – it couldn’t have come then?”  
“Well, we’ll just tell people that’s what you were doing, and that I was studying a really big globe. They’ll never know.”  
“You can keep a secret?”  Rory was skeptical.  
“Not so far, but there’s always a first.”  
“Dead Souls and a really big globe.”  
“Deal.” Lorelai glanced back at the T.V.  “Oh, kayaks!”

Rory shook her head and took her application into the kitchen to look it over in detail.   
  


* * *

  
That afternoon she arrived at Chilton for the Franklin meeting, with her application packed neatly in her backpack, and was immediately bombarded by Paris.  
“Did you get it?”  She demanded.  “Of course you got it, have you started on it yet?  What did you circle for the interests category?  Have you decided for sure what your essay topic will be because I’ve heard that can make or break you and-”

“Paris, slow down I just got here!”  Rory interrupted her.  
“Come on, I wanna get started.”  
“Hold your horses there little Miss Horsie Holder.”  They entered the building and Rory started setting her books on the table along with her still mostly-full coffee mug.  
“They’re going to expect a higher level of wit when you’re at Harvard. Oh, watch that drink!”  
“I’m nowhere near you.”  Rory grumbled.  
“Well, keep it that way. This is an uncontaminated area. I even brought Nanny’s homemade cleanser and scrubbed the whole table.”  Paris held up a spray bottle.  
“Fine, I’ll be careful.”  
“All right, here we go. First question. God, this is exhilarating!”  Paris’ face lit up with childlike wonder.  “I’ve been preparing for this day my whole life.”    
“Same here.”  Rory agreed, and they regarded each other for a moment with perfect understanding.  
“I need help.”  Madeline approached them.  
“What else is new?”  Paris snapped.

“What do you need help with?”  Rory asked, ignoring Paris.  
“This is not reading right to me. Could you guys look it over?”  Madeline handed Rory the list of ground-breaking articles previously published by the Franklin over the past seventy-five years that she had compiled for the anniversary issue.  
“Alphabetical.  Seems tidy.”  Rory told her.  
“Or a little OCD.”  Paris interjected, looking over their shoulders.  
“It is a little long.”  Rory agreed.  
“I can’t make cuts.”  Madeline squeaked.  
“It’s three pages, single spaced – make cuts.”  Paris practically jumped down her throat and Madeline scurried away.  
“Still won’t consider just being nice to people?”  Rory asked Paris.

“Nice didn’t get me to Editor of the Franklin and it won’t get me into Harvard.”  Paris retorted.  “Now, can we get on with it?”  She turned back to the application in front of her.  “Okay, personal information. . . state your full name. Better not get that one wrong.”  
“I’ll try.”  Rory joked.  Sometimes the only way to deal with Paris was to match her sarcasm.  
“And nickname, if any.”  
“That would be Rory.”  
“Okay, parental information.  Too bad your parents didn’t go to Harvard like mine did.  It really sets you apart when they recognize your name immediately.”  
Rory glowered at her.  “I’d prefer to get in on pure merit anyway.”  
“You’re crazy if you think you don’t need some kind of upper hand.  Do you have any idea how many other kids from renowned Prep schools with 4.0 GPAs and a plethora of extra-curriculars are vying for the same spot you are?”  
Rory stopped filling out her application as cold dread seeped down her spine.  She had never considered that her grades would not be enough to secure her a spot at Harvard.  
“Okay, what activities interest you?”  Paris continued reading the application aloud, oblivious to Rory’s sudden discomfiture.  “Hm, all of them except for the sports.”  She began circling items on the list.

“Oh, the essay – the big kahuna.  You can evaluate a significant experience that’s had a profound affect on you, or a person who has had a significant influence on you.”  Paris told her.

“I already have my essay topic picked out.”  Rory found her voice again.  
“Which is?”  
“Hillary Clinton.”  Rory declared proudly.  “It’s perfect.  She’s so smart and tough and nobody thought she could win New York but she did and she’s doing amazing, and have you heard her speak?”  
“Only during the thousands of hours of C-SPAN footage I taped.”   
“She’s a great speaker, strong and persuasive with a wonderful presence, and even those suits of hers are getting better.”

“You know, when I was twelve and I was writing the first of my trial essays in practice for the day I’d write my real essay, I chose Hillary Clinton. Then I realized every braindead bint in a skirt would be writing about Hillary, but it was good to clear the pipes.”  Paris mused.

That was it, Rory had had enough of Paris’ negativity.  She snapped her notebook shut.  “I’m going outside.”  
“The outside’s contaminated!”  Paris shrieked.  Rory grabbed the spray bottle and sprayed it in Paris’ general direction for good measure as she walked out the doors.   
  
* * *

 

“I’m not getting into Harvard.”  Rory called out in panic as she walked in the front door.  
“What? Who says?”  Lorelai rushed out of the kitchen to meet her.  
“According to Paris, I’m completely unprepared, and I have no original thoughts!”  
“No, no, don’t blame yourself, it’s not you. It’s those jerks at Harvard – I hate them!”  
“What?”  Rory was bewildered.  
“I just got off the phone with my mother and apparently those lazy-ass admissions officers just take applications and stick it in the yes and no piles without even glancing at them!”  
“Well, it won’t matter because my Hillary Clinton essay will be just like every other girl’s Hillary Clinton essay because apparently that’s all we can think of. I’m such a hack.”  Rory dropped her backpack in the kitchen with a loud thump, sat down and put her head on the table.  She recounted her conversation with Paris to Lorelai.  
“Is it true everyone has the same GPA? How is that possible?”  
“Because we all take the same classes and we all give the same perfunctory run-of-the-mill responses. And I’m interested in too many things, I have to limit them. I’m gonna circle travel on my application. From now on, that is what I am interested in, travel.”  
“No, no, don’t do that, no! Because all those people coming from China and India and God knows where else, they’re all nuts for traveling – that’s why they’re traveling here! And…and jobs are dropping and dot-com bombing and something’s acting like a yo-yo, I don’t know what but it’s not good! And over my dead body is Kate Hudson getting your spot, let me just say that right now!”  
Rory raised her head.  “Mom, you’re freaking out!”  
“Yes, I’m freaking out!”  
“Well, you can’t freak out, I’m freaking out!”  
“Okay, we gotta calm down here.”  
“So, set an example.”  
“Hey, I’m human, too.”  
“My forehead is burning up.”  

Lorelai sat down next to Rory and put a hand to her forehead.  “No, you’re fine.”  She told her.  
“Okay, just. . .let’s take a breath.”  
“Okay.”  Lorelai agreed.  “This freaking out is not good.”  
“It sucks.”  
“We can do this. If others can do this, we can do this!”  
“Well, I’m not so sure anymore.”  
“That is unacceptable!”  
“I don’t wanna accept it.”  
“Then we won’t.”  
“So, what do we do?”  
“I don’t know, but we need to figure it out fast because your grandmother invited us over to meet with Headmaster Charleston tonight to talk about this.”  
“What?”  Rory groaned.  
“He knows how all of this works, he might actually be able to help.  Okay, are we calming? Are we less-freaked?”  
“I’m totally freaked out.”    
“Well, hide it!”  
“I can’t hide it.”  
“Then prepare yourself for an evening of Ivy-League magazine recitations by Emily "DJ Doom-meister" Gilmore.”  
“I’ll hide it.”  Rory agreed.

 

* * *

 

Their dinner with the headmaster turned out to be quite productive.  He suggested setting up a college application seminar and inviting admissions officers to come and speak to the Chilton senior class.  Rory spent all day Sunday planning the event with Paris.  It was scheduled for Friday and they had a lot of work to do all week.  Finally the big day arrived.  Rory got to school early to help set up.  Of course Paris was already there, Rory could hear her voice as soon as she neared the auditorium.

“Everyone always says that!”  Paris cried.  “This is my speaking voice. This is its natural volume! Fine, fine!”  She threw her hands up in the air and stomped toward Rory mumbling. “Short-sighted morons.”  
“What now, Paris?”  Rory asked cautiously.  
“We went to all this trouble to set up this stupid seminar. I say we, but let’s face it, I did most of the work, and Mr. Hunter won’t let me do it the way I want.”  
“The panelists are up there. We sit across from them and ask questions. What’s the problem?”  
“It’s boring and predictable and done to death. I wanted Charlie Rose.”  
“To ask the questions?”  
“His style. I wanted us sitting at a round table with black backdrops.”

“But then the audience won’t be able to see anything.”  
“I was working with the losers in the AV club to project it on a giant video screen. And all Mr. Hunter said was, "Paris, this isn’t the Beatles at Shea Stadium." Nice anachronism, huh? Like they had video screens in sixty-three. His references are as topical as his suits.”  
The panelists had arrived and were taking their seats on stage as the auditorium began to fill up with students.  Mr. Hunter approached the podium and Paris audibly scoffed.  
“Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please? We can get this seminar started. I’d like to bring up the organizers of this little event, Paris Geller and Rory Gilmore.”  
Rory and Paris took their seats across from the panelists and the room quieted.  
“Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”  Paris said with barely concealed sarcasm.  “Everybody, this is a seminar called "The Business of Getting In." Its goal is to help guide us through the torturous process of applying to, and getting into, the right college. My panelists are Jim Romaine, admissions officer at Princeton University, and Ivy-League college consultant, Rose Samuels. Welcome, panel.”  
“Yes, welcome.”  Rory added.  

 

Rory thought the seminar went very well.  She was feeling a bit better about her chances as she attended the rest of her classes that morning.  Unfortunately it seemed to have had the opposite effect on Paris.  She ambushed Rory in the cafeteria before she’d even gotten her lunch.  
“What the hell did Romaine mean when he was going on about weeding out the hyper-intense in the interview process? He stopped just short of calling me by name, I’m losing it!”  
“Not now, Paris.”  Rory sighed.  
“I tried to throw the questioning over to you because I was about to heave and you left me hanging so I had to go home and heave.”  
“I thought you were a shoe-in?  Family names are gold, according to you.”

“Weren’t you listening?  None of that matters if I bomb my interview, apparently my lifetime of planning for Harvard makes me ‘too hungry and a little immature’!”  Rory was turning to leave and Paris narrowed her eyes at her.  “They were talking about you too, you know.  I’ve seen your room full of Harvard paraphernalia on the walls, just like mine.”

Rory glared back and purposefully stomped away, determined not to let Paris’ panic affect her like it did last weekend.    
“Wait!”  Paris called, her voice cracking with desperation as she reached out for Rory’s arm.  “If I don’t get in, if I fail…then all of this will have been for nothing.”  Paris’ eyes were frantic with fear as she begged for understanding.

Rory couldn’t help but feel for her.  She did understand how Paris was feeling right now.  All of the years of work, the hours of studying and preparation and sacrifice were leading up to this one moment, this one chance at acceptance into the Ivy Leagues.

“Then we’ll just have to help each other.”  Rory told Paris earnestly.  “We’ll practice interviewing each other, we’ll read each other’s essays.  Whatever it takes for us both to get in.”

“Really?”  Paris’ eyes widened.  “You would do that?”

“Of course.”  Rory assured her, and held out her hand to shake Paris’.  “Until we both get in.”

“Until we both get in.”  Paris echoed, and they shook on it. 


	4. Chapter 4

“This is amazing chicken, Mom.”  Lorelai told Emily.  “I mean it, really great.”  
“Thank you, Lorelai.”  
“It’s like super chicken. I bet it could fly. Have you tried tossing it out the window?”  
“All right, what’s going on?”  Emily demanded.  
“What, I like the chicken.”  
“Nobody likes the chicken that much, Lorelai.”  
“I’m in a good mood.”  
“Why?”  
“My God, it’s my ninth grade homecoming dance all over again.”  
“Homecoming dance?”  Rory asked.  
“In ninth grade, I got asked to the homecoming dance and I didn’t think I would, and I was in a really good mood, and Mom got so annoyed that she made me go to my room.”  
“Grandma!”  Rory admonished her.  
“She was sitting at the table giving all the peas voices.”  Emily defended.  
“With a little encouragement, I could’ve been the Senor Wences of the vegetable set.”  
“Lorelai.”  
“Okay, okay, okay. It’ll come out soon enough. Today, ladies and gentlemen, I found a dance partner.”  
“You did?”  Rory grinned.  
“A good one.”  Lorelai nodded.  
“What are you talking about, a dance partner? A dance partner for what?”  Emily asked.  
“Our town is having a dance marathon this weekend.”  Lorelai explained.  
“It lasts twenty-four hours and the last couple left standing gets a trophy.”  
“A big trophy.”  
“Well, that sounds very nice.”  Emily told them.  
“All the proceeds go to charity.”  
“Which is great,” Lorelai added, “but did I mention the trophy?”  
“I believe you did.”  
“‘Cause it’s big.”  
“Charitable events are wonderful things to take part in. There’s nothing more rewarding than devoting yourself to making someone else’s life better.”  Emily was very fond of charity events and not only participated but hosted many of them on a regular basis.  
“And whose life isn’t better with a truly gigantic trophy around?”  Lorelai grinned.  
“So who’d you get to dance with you?”  Rory asked.  
“Stanley Appleman.”

“Who’s Stanley Appleman?”  
“Oh, he’s brand new in town. He works over at the hardware store, and the best part is, he used to be part of the touring company. . .of Riverdance!”  Lorelai crowed.  
“Score!”  
“I know! I’m completely jazzed.”  Lorelai held a potato up on her fork and started talking to it.  “How ‘bout you, Mr. Potato? ‘I’m completely jazzed, too.’”  
“What’s that?”  Emily asked as a phone started ringing.  
“I think that’s me.”  Lorelai set her fork down and started rummaging around in her purse.  
“Lorelai, I’ve told you a hundred times to turn that thing off when you come to dinner here.”  
“I know, Mom. I’m sorry.”  
“Can’t you let it go to voicemail?”  
“Well, see, I left Michel alone at the inn, and he’s dealing with the roofers. I told him to call me if there was any trouble.”  Lorelai explained as she left the room with her phone.  
“Is that true?”  Emily turned to Rory.  
“I’m gonna let Mr. Potato field this one.”  Rory answered.  
“I thought so.”  
A few minutes later Lorelai returned looking crestfallen.  
“Great.”  She slumped down into her chair.  
“What happened?”  
“Stanley bailed.”  
“No!”  Rory commiserated.  “Why?”  
“Apparently, Miss Patty showed his wife a picture of me, and she thinks I look like Elizabeth Taylor, which makes her Debbie Reynolds, and Stanley Eddie Fisher.”  
“That’s crazy.”  
“Especially if you’ve seen Stanley. He’s no Eddie Fisher, trust me.”  She pushed her potato around on her plate.  “Fisher Stevens, maybe.”  
“Can’t you talk to her?”  
“Apparently, only at my own risk.”  
“Well, at least she thought you looked like Elizabeth Taylor. That was nice.”  Emily comforted her daughter.  
“I have no partner.”  Lorelai muttered glumly.  
“You’ll find another one.”  
“Elizabeth Taylor always did.”  Emily agreed.  
“There’s someone else out there, trust me.”  
“I guess.”  
“Here. Have some more chicken.”  Emily offered.  “And if you’d like, later on you can make my asparagus talk.”  
“Thanks Mom.”  Lorelai brightened a little, and they finished their Friday night dinner on a content if low-key note.

By the time they returned home, Lorelai’s mood was significantly uplifted again and Rory was growing suspicious.  They sat down at the kitchen table and Lorelai was practically bouncing as she made them some coffee.

“Okay, so, what’s on your mind?”  Rory asked her.  
“I think I figured out who can be my dance partner for the marathon!”  
“Great! Who?”  
Lorelai stared at her daughter, grinning mischievously.  
“Bye!”  Rory rushed to hide in her room as soon as she realized what her mom was getting at.  
“Come on!”  Lorelai followed after her.  
“Forget it.”  
“Just hear me out. First of all, you love me.”  
“Not right at this moment, I don’t.”  
“You know how much this contest means to me. You’d never fall asleep or chase a pie.”  
“I do not dance.”  
“It’ll be fun. We’ll get all dressed up, and you’re light – easy to hold up when you get tired.”  
“Mom.”  
“Plus, we got the whole mother-daughter gimmick going for us. The crowd will eat that up.”  
“I cannot dance with you.”  
“Why not?”  
“Because!  I’m gonna hang with Lane, save her from the boredom of the sandwich table. We were gonna go and watch and hang out, she’s totally looking forward to it. We can laugh about how Andrew gets in a fight with his date in the first fifteen minutes and storms off the floor, and about Taylor getting punch-drunk at hour fifteen and telling stories about how he always wanted to be a magician.  Plus, she is finally meeting with some guy from a band who wants her to audition and I’m supposed to run interference with Mrs. Kim.  She needs me!”  
“Rory, please.”  Lorelai begged.  
“Okay, I’ll tell you what.”  Rory had a sudden burst of inspiration.  “I am supposed to work on the Franklin this weekend with Paris.”  
“But?”  Lorelai looked hopeful.  
“I will ask her if we can reschedule. If she says yes, then I will dance with you.”  Rory congratulated herself on her genius.  There was no way in hell Paris would reschedule the Franklin meeting.  
“Oh, I love ya!”  Lorelai squealed and hugged her.  
“You should sell cars.”  Rory grumbled.  
“I should, shouldn’t I?”  She sat back against Rory’s pillow with her hands behind her head.  “Hello, big fancy trophy!”  
  


* * *

 

On Monday, Rory was procrastinating asking Paris about Saturday.  Even though she was hoping for Paris to say no, she still wasn’t immune to the dread that came with asking Paris for something she didn’t want to do.  It was already after school and the student council meeting was almost over.

Francie raised her hand at the end of the meeting, just like she always did.  Rory rolled her eyes.  This girl seemed determined to be the thorn in their side.  “Uh, I was thinking that maybe this year we should throw a little beginning of the school year dance. I mean, why wait until the tan fades to have a formal?”  
“Dances are distracting.”  Paris countered.  
“Dances help bring in money to pay for those stupid topiaries you want in the quad.”  Francie sounded terse for once.

 _There, at least she dropped the sycophant facade a bit._  Rory thought.  
“Draft a proposal and have it on my desk by tomorrow.”  Paris answered mildly.  Everyone gaped at her in shock.  This was the first time in the first month of her reign as student body president that she had almost said yes to anything.  Rory decided that now was not the time to ask her favor from Paris.  
  


The following day, at the Franklin meeting, it happened again.  
“I would like to explore the option of having a professional photographer take the senior class photos.”  Madeline was saying.  “Every year we use that cheesy picture place, and every year people wind up with those VH1 ‘Before They Were Stars’ pictures, and I for one would like to stop the humiliation now.”  
“How are we going to get a professional photographer?”  Paris asked her.  
“Helmett Newton is my godfather.”  Louise suggested.  
“Okay, sign him up – and tell him to leave the whips and chains at home. All right, I think that’s all we have time for today.”  
“Hey.”  Rory approached her as everyone dispersed.  
“What do you think about Helmett Newton being Louise’s godfather? Explains a lot, doesn’t it?”  Paris was smiling.  Rory hadn’t seen her smile since Washington.

 

By Wednesday, things had gone from strange to stranger.  Their first class, chemistry, had already started and there was no sign of Paris anywhere.  Then ten minutes later she barged into class, flushed and out of breath.

“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Savitt.”  She apologized.  
“Is everything okay?”  The teacher asked her.  
“Yes. I overslept.”  
“You’re kidding.”  Mrs. Savitt looked as shocked as Rory felt.  
“No, it won’t happen again.”  
“Well, good. Okay, everyone, let’s get to work.”  
Once they had all started on their lab assignments, Rory turned to Paris.  It was now or never, and surely Paris would not be in a giving mood considering her harried state.

“Paris, hi. Listen, I need to ask you something.”  
“Shoot.”  Paris told her.  
“Well, there’s this big event that’s happening in my town. . .”  
“Pig race?”  
“Dance marathon.”  
“I was close.”  
“It’s on Saturday, and it’s a twenty-four hour thing and my mother really wants to win, and her partner bailed on her and, long story short, I was wondering if there was any way we could move this Saturday’s Franklin thing to next Saturday.”  
“Okay.”  Paris answered without hesitation.  Rory just stared at her.  
“What did she say?”  Madeline asked in a stage whisper that carried all the way to the back of the room.  
“I don’t know.”  Louise told her, then walked up to Paris.  “What did you say?”  
“I said yes.”  
“She said yes.”  Louise repeated back to Madeline.  
“She said yes.”  Madeline echoed in shock.  Then she and Louise began frantically asking every guy in the room if they were free on Saturday.  
“So, we’re done, right?”  Paris asked Rory as she started packing up their lab equipment.  
“Alright, spill.”  Rory demanded.  
“Come again?”  Paris blinked, trying for feigned ignorance and failing.

“You just agreed to cancel Saturday’s Franklin meeting.”

“I’m aware of that.”  Paris grinned.

“You’ve never cancelled a meeting.  And you’ve never been late to school.  Come on, what gives?”  
“Rory, just because I agreed to postpone a newspaper session does in no way imply –”  
“You can’t even stop smiling.”  
“I can, too.”  Paris retorted, but her lips betrayed her words by quirking up at the corners.  
“Tell me!”  Rory insisted.  
“Okay.”  Paris dropped her voice low as they walked toward their lockers.  “Jamie called me this weekend.”  She finally whispered, glancing around to make sure no one overheard, a huge grin plastered across her face.

“Paris, that’s great!”  Rory said and Paris immediately shushed her.  “What did he say?”  She whispered.

“Well, he talked about how he had a great time on our date, and how he finds me fascinating, and how he thought about me all the time. He wants to see me again, this weekend.  Okay, there, happy?”  
“Wow, he likes you.”  Rory tried not to sound unduly surprised.  
“I left an impression.”  Paris agreed.  
“You sure did.”  Rory elbowed her, giggling.  
“I still don’t understand why he wants to date me. He’s surrounded by Princeton girls all day long who must be prettier than I am, and more experienced than I am. I mean, I’m sure they’re all idiots, but usually that’s the last thing a guy thinks about when he’s looking for a date for the big game.”  
“Well, Jamie must be special.”

“Or Ted Bundy.”  Paris quipped.  
“Absolutely. It’s either one or the other.”  
“Hey. Can you do me a favor?”  
“Okay.”  
“Don’t say anything to Madeline or Louise about this.”  
“About Jamie?”  Rory was confused.  
“Yeah.”  
“But they’re your best friends.”  
“Theoretically, yes, but the second I mention a guy they’re gonna both start singing the theme from the Trojan Man commercial, and I just can’t take that, okay?”  
“No one knows until you give the word.”  Rory promised.  
“Thanks.”

Rory was too happy for her friend to remember to be upset that her plan to get out of the dance marathon had just backfired.  They headed to their second class, Paris still smiling from ear to ear.  


	5. Chapter 5

A few weeks later they were all sitting in algebra class when Madeline leaned forward and tapped Paris on the shoulder.

“Paris, what did he say?”  She asked.  
Paris jumped as if startled.  “Hm?”  She asked.  
“He’s talking too fast, I missed it.”  Madeline repeated.  
“Ask Louise.”  Paris grumbled.  
“Louise, what did he say?”  Madeline turned around.  
“I don’t know, ask Paris.”  
“She told me to ask you.”  
“Why would she do that?”  Louise frowned.  
“I don’t know.”  
“Did you guys have a fight?”  
“Not that I know of.”  Now Madeline was frowning.  The bell rang and as Rory stood up and swung her backpack over her shoulder she noticed Paris still sitting at her desk staring out the window.  
“The bell rang.”  She told her.  
“What?”  Paris asked.  
“The bell?”  Rory repeated.  “That loud metal musical contraption that when hit loudly by a vibrating mallet signals the end of this particular educational experience.”  
“Class is over?”   
“Yup.”  
“What did he talk about?”  Paris sounded panicked now.  
“Ask Louise.”  Madeline told her with a smile that might have looked malicious if Rory didn’t know her better.  
“I didn’t take notes. I didn’t pay attention. I’m going to. . .”  Paris was on the verge of hyperventilating.  
“Borrow my notes and be just fine.”  Rory told her before she could melt down.  
“Thank you.”  Paris smiled at her.  
“Madeline want notes, too, please.”  Madeline chimed in.  
“I can’t believe I zoned out for the entire class.”  Paris still looked dazed.

“You must have a lot on your mind.”  Rory mused.  
“I do.”  Paris agreed.  
“I’m sure.”  Rory answered with a knowing look.  “Okay, so, onto the next thing. I don’t think I’ll have the prom bids ready for the supplemental student council meeting this week.”  
“Oh.”  
“They need a little more time to get the details together, so that leaves a little hole in our agenda. Any thoughts?”  
“Well, we can just cancel the supplementary meeting this week.”  
“What?”  Rory was stunned.  
“Well, if there’s nothing really to talk about, what’s the point, right?”

“I heard something about the supplemental student council meeting – anything I need to know about, a new chart to be made, perhaps?”  Francie, who had apparently been lurking behind them as they walked, butted in.  
“No.”  Paris answered her curtly.  “We were just saying that the agenda seems light this week, so I’ve decided to cancel it.”  
“Wow, this is quite a change in plans.  You always said that one student council meeting a week was not enough, that that was no way to govern, that meeting once a week was lazy, ineffectual, and if we were going to do it like that, we might as well just buy ourselves a ranch in Texas.”   
“You have a problem with it?”  
“No, I’m just surprised. You seem so attached to those meetings.”  
“Well, I finally got a blankie. It’s much better.  If you guys wanna sit around for an hour after school swapping makeover horror stories, then count me in. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I plucked outside of my designated brow line? Man, was my face red.”  
“I’ve done that, too. Ooh, it’s bad.”  Madeline agreed.  
“She was being sarcastic.”  Louise drawled.  
“Well, I wasn’t. I looked surprised for a month.”  
“We’ll just take this week off, and then we’ll go back to twice a week after the holiday, okay?”  Paris rolled her eyes.  
“Sounds fair.”  Rory agreed.  
“Okay, no extra meeting this week. What will I do with all that extra time? Well, I guess I’ll think of something.”  Francie said.  
“Take a picture of which outfit wins, will ya?”  Paris slammed her locker shut and stomped off.  
“Bye Francie.”  Rory wiggled her fingers at her mockingly.  
“Bye.”   
  


* * *

 

Wednesday arrived and no one seemed to be in the mood for school, being that the next day was Thanksgiving and the beginning of their four-day weekend.  Everyone except for Paris of course.

“That was really distracting.”  Madeline remarked as class ended.  
“Oh. Well, by all means, Madeline, you should point out to the faculty that their annoying custom of teaching is distracting you from more important things like nail filing and daydreaming about marrying Ryan Phillippe.”  Paris snapped.  
“Uh, he’s already married.”  Louise pointed out.  
“Then whatever strawhead actor isn’t.”  
“This was bad. For the last five minutes, every single thing she said sounded dirty.”  Madeline went on.  
“Yeah, same here.”  Louise agreed.  
“Good God.”  Paris clapped a hand to her forehead as if she were actually in physical pain as a result of this conversation.  
“I mean, reticulum? Come on.”  
“Plus, the golgi body. I mean, is it me or is that majorly pornographic?”  
“My life with the Banger sisters.”  Paris lamented.  
“So, changing the subject. . .”  Rory came to her rescue.  
“Hallelujah.”  
“What’s everybody doing for Thanksgiving?”  
“I can’t even talk about Thanksgiving.”  Paris growled.  
“I‘m having dinner with my dad.”  Louise chimed in.  
“Isn’t he still in jail?”  Madeline asked.  
“Yes, but his company donated some treadmills for the inmates so he swung a special trailer for dinner that they’re gonna set up for us in the parking lot. We have it for about two hours and then one of the Manson girls gets it.”  
“You’re lucky it’s in that order.”  
“My Thanksgiving is turning into a Wes Craven movie.”  Paris went on, decidedly ignoring Louise and Madeline.  
“How so?”  Rory asked her.  
“I called shelters to volunteer to serve food. It’s Thanksgiving – you’d think they have needs. Nope. Every stupid soup kitchen in town turned me down because they have enough volunteers.”  
“Bummer.”  
“I’m on a couple waiting lists, but it doesn’t look good.”  
“I’ve never heard of too many volunteers.”  
“Harvard is going to be expecting Thanksgiving shelter work. They’ll know I called too late and it will totally impugn my organizational skills.”

“Sore subject.”  Madeline joined in.  
“What are you up to, Madeline?”    
“I’ve got more college applications to fill out. Backups, safety schools.”  
“I’ve got some of that, too. I’m so behind.”  Louise agreed.  
“I told you guys to have those things done by now.”  Paris scolded them.  
“Sorry, Mom.”  Louise rolled her eyes.  
“It’s not about being sorry. It’s about being prepared. I got Harvard and my backups in weeks ago.”  
“Okay, all you’re doing is making me more nervous. I’ll see you guys Monday.”    
“Same here.”  
“Yup, see you guys Monday.”  Rory waved goodbye to them as they headed out.  
“Who are all these jackasses who volunteered anyway? They can’t all be students like me. They’re not all putting it on a college application. I get something out of it and these other people don’t get a thing. Talk about selfish.”  Paris stopped walking and grabbed Rory’s elbow.  “By the way, you know I ultimately do all these things for the good of mankind, right?“

“I know, Paris.”  Rory smiled.  

“Sometimes I don’t think I come off that way.”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”  Rory laughed.  “Besides, we already submitted our applications, there’s nothing else we need to do at this point.  We just have to be patient and hope for the best.”  Rory hoped she sounded confident, because she really didn’t feel it.  She and Paris had indeed put their applications in the mail, which meant no more tweaking them.      
Just then Paris’ phone started ringing and she hurried to answer it.  
“Hello? Hi Jamie!  Yes, I’m finished.  Okay I’ll be right out.”  Paris grinned hugely at Rory before rushing out the doors toward the parking lot.

Rory waved at Paris’ retreating form before turning the other way to head to the bus stop.  As she was walking down the hall, a classroom door suddenly opened and Francie appeared.

“Oh, Rory, super. Could you step in here for a sec?”  She said sweetly.  
“Uh, okay.”  Rory tried her best not to sneer at Francie’s saccharine voice.  
“Thanks. I’m just so lucky I caught you.”  
“What is this?”  Rory demanded when she entered the classroom and saw the rest of the student council seated around the table.  
“The supplementary student council meeting, silly.”  Francie answered.  
“But Paris canceled that.”  
“She did, didn’t she? Hm.”  Francie grinned at her triumphantly and Rory had a sudden urge to slap her.  Instead she approached their faculty adviser.  
“Mr. Hunter, there’s been a mistake. Paris canceled this meeting and –”  
“I know, Rory, but Francie approached me and said there was an issue that she had planned to discuss at the meeting today, and it has a bit of a ticking clock on it.”  
“You did not mention that you had anything.”  Rory rounded on Francie.  
“I was just so surprised that Paris was canceling the meeting that it flew right out of my head. It was New York to London in three hours or less.”  
“I’ll bet.”  Rory crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.  
“Rory, if you take a seat, we can get started.”  Mr. Hunter prompted.  
“I move that we postpone this meeting until Paris can be reached.”  She immediately suggested.  
“We’re all here now, let’s just hear what Francie has to say. You can fill Paris in later. By the way, did anyone try to find her?”  
“I saw her walking off with. . .who was that, her brother?”  Francie asked innocently.  Rory was not at all fooled.  
“Paris doesn’t have a brother.”  Someone told her.  
“Really? Well, she certainly seemed to know him.”    
“Francie, why don’t you just tell us all why we’re here?”  Rory sighed, taking a seat.    
“The Wadsworth Mansion has just had a cancellation, which means that we can get it for prom, if we move quickly.”  Francie addressed the council.  “Shall we vote?”  
“Hold on –”  Rory held her hand up.  “The Wadsworth Mansion is too expensive. We’ve already discussed this.”  
“There are plenty of funds there to cover it.”  Francie countered.  
“Not if we want a telescope to be the senior gift.”  Rory reminded her.  
“You mean, not if Paris wants a telescope to be the senior gift.”  
“We all thought it was a good idea.”  
“'Reach for the stars'? Nice theme, original. Was ‘Be all that you can be’ taken?”  
“It’s a good gift.”  
“It’s a fine gift”  Francie said.  “However, so is planting a nice tree in the quad.”  
“Every class plants a tree.”  
“Well, then, who are we to judge those who came before? I say let’s put it to a vote.”  
“This isn’t right. Paris should be here.”  Rory told her.  
“I agree, Paris should be here. However, she’s not, so once again, shall we vote?”  
“Rory, as student body vice president, I need you to call for a vote.”  Mr. Hunter intervened again.  
“All those in favor of using the funds for the Wadsworth Mansion, even though we will be cheating the next generation of Chilton students who would love a nice telescope, say 'aye'.”  
“Aye.”  Everyone said in unison.  
“Wadsworth Mansion it is.”  Rory banged the gavel in defeat.  “Meeting dismissed.” 

“Chin up,”  Francie grinned wickedly as she turned to leave.  “We’ll make it a really big tree.”


	6. Chapter 6

Rory spent the four-day weekend anguishing over the coup Francie instigated.  She knew Paris would be furious.  She must have picked up the phone a hundred times to call and tell Paris everything, but then she pictured her having fun with Jamie and decided she just couldn’t ruin her weekend.  She would tell her on Monday.  Everything would be fine.  

And it seemed to be.  Paris was her usual self, and Rory was able to clear the air before they called the student council meeting to order that afternoon.

“Hey Paris.”  Rory greeted her.  Paris was sorting through a box of papers.  
“Have you looked over the votes for commencement speaker?”  She asked without preamble.  
“Yeah.”  
“Are the ones for Princess Diana’s butler jokes or real?”

“I’d say jokes.”  
“What about the ones for Dr. Phil?”  
“I think real.”  
“I knew that suggestion box was a bad idea. Watch Choate get Joan Didion while we’re being read ‘Eloise at the Plaza’.”  
“Listen, before the others get here, we should probably decide what we’re going to do.”  
“About what?”  Paris turned to look at Rory.  
“About the prom coup Francie staged last week.”  
“You mean booking Wadsworth Mansion?”  
“Using all of the money reserved for the telescope that we wanted to buy for the senior gift.”  
“Why does one pinhead always have to vote for Jerry Garcia?”  Paris turned back to the papers in front of her.  
“I’m not sure if the deposit check has been sent yet, but -”  Rory continued.  
“I already took care of that.”  Paris waved a hand in the air dismissively.  
“What?”  Rory shouldn’t have been surprised.  Of course Paris would have already canceled the booking.  
“Wadsworth Mansion is owned by the Connecticut Daughters of the Mayflower. Most of those biddies couldn’t negotiate an icy sidewalk much less a contract. Took me about five minutes on the phone to get them down to half their asking price.”  
“You’re kidding!”  Leave it to Paris to find a way to come out on top.  
“Well, there was no way I was letting the class gift be a stupid tree just so Ginger Spice can have her Barbie dream prom.”  
“She’s a sneak.”  Rory grumbled.  
“She’s not smart enough to be a sneak. Anyone can call a meeting.”  
“Yeah, but –”  Rory tried to find the right words to express her suspicions about Francie.  She knew there was something malicious about her.  
“Well, our fearless leaders at work already. I feel so safe.”  Francie drawled as she arrived.  Rory glared at her until she passed them and took her seat.  
“That girl bugs me.”    
“Relax, she’s harmless.”  Paris told her.  Rory wasn’t so sure.  “Shall we sit?”  
“Fine, let’s sit.”  
“I call this meeting of the student council to order."  Paris addressed the group.  "Is the secretary ready?”  
“I am.”  They answered.  
“Then let’s proceed. First of all, I’d like to apologize for missing last week’s somewhat impromptu meeting. As most of you know, its scheduling was somewhat unorthodox since the meeting was a supplementary meeting, which was a concept invented by me. So the fact that anyone would hold a meeting invented by a certain person without that certain person seems, well. . .let’s see, what’s the word? Mutinous, insulting, underhanded, and in the end, fruitless, since I managed to re-negotiate the rental fee for the Wadsworth Mansion so that we’ll be able to have the prom and give the school a respectable senior gift in the form of a telescope. Any questions?”  
Rory wanted to stand up and cheer, but settled for sitting smugly next to a triumphant Paris.  No one had any questions, so Paris continued.  
“Good. So, now that that’s out of the way, let’s move onto other business. Francie?”

Everyone turned toward her expectantly, but for the very first time she didn’t have a single thing to say.

 

* * *

 

The next day at lunch Paris and Rory sat down at their usual table together.

“How many times do I have to tell them?”  Paris griped.  “You can’t put a two-inch ladle of gravy into a one-inch potato crater. You either need a smaller ladle or a bigger crater – otherwise, you get this.”  She gestured to the contents of her plate.  
“Gravy on your asparagus.”  Rory shook her head sadly.  
“Yes.”  
“Paris, the cafeteria workers serve hundreds of students a day. A little gravy spillage is natural.”  
“I see. So I should just sit quietly and shovel in whatever slop they throw my way like some inmate in the chow line at Leavenworth doing twenty to life? I don’t think so.”  
“I’ll save your seat.”  Rory told her before Paris had even moved, knowing she was going to go complain.  
While she was gone, Rory was startled when a paper airplane flew in front of her face and landed directly on the tray in front of her.  She looked around the cafeteria but no one seemed to be paying her any attention.  It was probably just an accident, but Rory felt compelled to unfold it.  Written on the inside were the words _We need to meet_.  Rory looked around again, and this time spotted Francie at the head of her table glaring right at her.  Rory glared back, but then Paris returned.  
“They took my tray!”  She wailed.  “I can’t believe they took my tray. All I did was go up there and tell them I wanted some new asparagus, and they took my tray. Well, I also told them to buy a slightly looser hair net, one that wouldn’t squish the part of the brain that can judge depth and measurements, and then they took my tray, but still. . .”  She looked over at Rory who was still staring off into the distance. “You gonna eat that?”  
Rory slid her tray over to Paris without a word and Paris dug in.  
  
* * *

 

After school, Rory was heading toward the bus as usual when Francie stepped out from around the corner of the building.

“Good, you’re here. We need to talk.”  
“We have three classes together, we couldn’t talk then?”  Rory snapped.  She was not in the mood for this.  
“I thought alone would be better.”  
“What do you want?”  
“I want a truce.”  
“Excuse me?”

“A truce, you know, no more fighty-fighty.  I mean, it’s my senior year, too. Why would I want to spend the whole time scheming and fighting? It’s too exhausting. I wanna stop this war, this vendetta, this Sicilian thing. It must end.”  
“This seems awfully sudden.”  Rory narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  
“Yes, well, my time is precious, so if I’m not gonna truly commit to a grudge, I’d like to move on and put that energy somewhere else. Come on, what do you say?”  
“You mean now that you’ve lost, you want to play nice.”  Rory smirked.  
“Look, this is not the way I wanted things to work out, honestly. Yes, the hemline thing bugged me, and yes, Paris is not my idea of a secret sister, but I never intended for things to go so far.”  
“No?  Then why go behind Paris’ back like that?”  
“Because talking to Paris is like shopping for a bathing suit in December – frustrating, fruitless, and a complete waste of time. Now you, you might be the wallflower, but you’re obviously the Meyer Lansky behind this organization.”  
“I am not the Meyer Lansky.”  Rory crossed her arms and glared.  Francie must have realized that her play-nice farce wasn’t working, because she switched tactics.  
“What’s that noise?”  Francie cocked her head as if listening.  “What is that noise? Oh wait, it’s me, still talking. Didn’t you hear it? Obviously not. Anyhow, Paris is student body president – big fat deal. There are three other class presidents – the junior class president, the sophomore class president, and oh, yes, the senior class president – me.”  
“I know all this.”  
“Well, then, it’s off the short bus for you, isn’t it? Now if Paris thinks she’s gonna march around dictating mandates and ignoring what I have to say, then she’s in for a major bikini wax.”  
“Thanks for the visual.”  Rory frowned.  
“Without me, she’s nothing. Just another power-mad, insecure, friendless, dateless, highlightless loser wandering around trying to make someone care that they exist at all, which, by the way, no one does. I control the senior class. I am also the leader of the Puffs, the most exclusive society on this campus, and I have the power to make her life a living hell.”

“Francie, she’s just –”  
“No, I talk, okay?  Great. I can make sure she does nothing this year but lead the student body in whatever version of the Pledge of Allegiance happens to be constitutional at the time.”  
“What do you want me to do about it?”  Rory was quickly losing her patience.  
“I want you to go back to Margaret Thatcher and tell her to play ball. She’s gonna support the hemline issue, and any other issue that I bring up for the rest of the year. Otherwise I’ll make her so ineffectual, she’ll make Jimmy Carter look like Martin Sheen – do you get me?”  
“We’re supposed to be representing the interests of the student body. We are not supposed to be brokering backdoor deals and pushing through agendas with intimidation and bribery. I mean, what are we, French skating judges?”  
“This is politics. If you’ve got a problem, tell it to Noam Chomsky. I live in the real world. Oh, and I would keep this conversation between you and me. Paris tends to get a little paranoid when there’s other mammals at the watering hole, so her finding out that you were conferring with me might not make your vice presidency any easier.”  
“I am not conferring with you, you ambushed me!”  
“What are you talking about?”  Francie feigned innocence.  “You sought me out because you thought Paris was a little out of line yesterday and you wanted to make sure my very delicate feelings weren’t hurt. You are so sweet to think of me. I feel much better now that I have you on my side. Bye now!”  
Rory stomped away, thinking she really hated politics.


	7. Chapter 7

Rory was up half the night thinking about everything that had transpired with Francie.  She had no idea what the right course of action was.  She definitely wasn’t going to suddenly become Francie’s mole, but how could she get her off her back?  She just couldn’t believe she was in this situation.  She had never even wanted to be vice president in the first place!

But then at school she saw Francie walking toward her down the hall and just couldn’t pass up the chance for a little payback.  She ducked into the nearby restroom and waited for Francie to approach.  When she neared, Rory reached out and grabbed her by the sleeve to pull her into the restroom.

“Francie, so good of you to stop by. I know how busy you are.”  Rory intoned mockingly.  
“What’s your damage, Gilmore?”  Francie huffed, readjusting the shoulder of her blazer.  
“Damage? No damage. I just thought we should chat.”  
“Yeah? Well, I don’t have any–”  
“Oh, you know what, I changed my mind.”  Rory interrupted her.  “I don’t think we should chat, I think I should chat. Ready? Okay. That little stunt you pulled – not good.”  
“Stunt?”  
“Paris canceled that meeting, and then when she fixed everything you ambushed me.”  Rory reminded her.  “If you had a proposal, you should have brought it to Paris.”  
“Paris wasn’t around. She was off yet again with the mystery man.”  
“Jealous?”  Rory raised her eyebrows.  
“Of Paris’ lobotomy victim? I think not.”  Francie’s sarcasm didn’t quite cover her true feelings.  
“What is wrong with you?”  Rory cried.  She had had quite enough of Francie.  “So what if Paris has a boyfriend? You don’t think that as hard as Paris works in school or on the Franklin or on student council - you don’t think that she deserves to have a boyfriend and to enjoy it?”  
“Hey, no one is denying Gidget a chance to snag Moondoggie for the clambake, but the rest of us have things to accomplish.”  
“You’ve had one goal since the beginning of the year.”  Rory accused her.  
“To achieve the perfect liquid line.”  Francie interjected innocently.  
“To take Paris down.”  
“And to achieve the perfect liquid line.”  
“You’re a jerk, and if you wanna play it this way, then fine. All bets are off.  You wanna play rough –  I’ve read The Art of War. I can be just as big a pain in your butt as you are in Paris’, capiche?”  
“You do not wanna be my enemy, Marlo Thomas.”  Francie warned her.  
“I think I do, Tina Louise.”

“Fine.”  
“It is fine.”  
“Can I go now?”  Francie asked.  
“The door’s right there.”  
“You’re gonna be very sorry.”  She shot over her shoulder as she opened the door.  
“Am I?”  Rory did her best to sound skeptical.  
“Oh yes. . .you are.”  
“I’m good with that.”  Rory said, but Francie had already left.

 

Rory held her head high for the rest of the day, confident that she had put Francie in her place and put an end to this ridiculous feud.

 

* * *

 

But by the next morning, Rory realized she had made a terrible mistake.  The halls were buzzing with new gossip, and she kept hearing Paris’ name over and over.

“I called last night and I asked her to talk me through the Korean War and she said she was busy.”  Madeline was saying.  
“Oh, she’s definitely got a boyfriend.”  Louise said, her eyes alight.  
“I know.”  Madeline agreed.  
“Well, I for one think it’s about time.”  
“I agree.”  
“It wasn’t healthy, all that non-dating.”  
“It definitely didn’t help that whole skin thing she was going through.”  
“How come she didn’t tell us?”  Louise wondered.  
“I think she just wanted to make sure it was gonna take.”  Madeline reasoned.  Then they spotted Rory and zeroed in.  
“So, tell us, what’s this guy like?”  Louise demanded.  
“You know, I really don’t feel like talking about Jamie right now. Or ever.”  Rory told them.  She had a feeling that Paris would not appreciate them talking about her and Jamie.  
“Oh, come on, you know him, we don’t.”  Madeline begged.  
“Is he sexy?”  
“Does he have a good car?”  
“How’s the trust fund?”  
“How’s the profile?”  
“Will the prom pictures work?”  
“How are his friends?”  
“Yes, is there spin-off potential?” Louise asked just as Paris rounded the corner.  “Whoops!”  She spun around to avoid Paris’ penetrating gaze.  
“Bye!”  Madeline squeaked and they both disappeared.  Paris brushed past Rory without a word, leaving her speechless.  She wondered how everyone suddenly knew that Paris was seeing Jamie, when she glanced down the hall and saw Francie leaning against her locker and staring right at her with a triumphant grin.  
  
  


Later that day Rory entered the gym for P.E. and Paris was staring daggers at her.

“Okay class, we will begin in five minutes.”  Their fencing instructor told them.  
“Does your helmet smell?”  Madeline asked.  “I always get one that smells.”  
“You’d think the brain trust behind P.E. could come up with some sport that didn’t give you helmet hair all afternoon.”  Louise complained.  
“Like badminton.”  Madeline suggested.  
“Or striptease aerobics.”  Louise agreed.  
“What?”  Rory asked in surprise.  
“It’s really big in L.A.”  Madeline answered.  “You just go through the motions, you don’t actually have to strip.”  
“Do the other people in the gym throw money at you?”  Rory laughed.  
“Fine, mock, but tell me this – have you ever seen an overweight stripper?”  Louise returned.  
“The word no seems so wildly inadequate all of a sudden.”  
“All right everyone, take your places.”  The instructor directed them.  “We will warm up with your counter-sixte-riposte-quarte. Melanie, please lead the group.”  
“Oh my God, there’s a hair in mine!”  Madeline cried, still refusing to put her helmet on.  Rory donned hers and turned to face Paris, her usual sparring partner, still wondering what Paris was angry about this time.  
“Doesn’t it seem strange to be practicing a sport whose original purpose was to kill people?”  Rory asked Paris, trying to break the ice.  “It’s like if high schools of the future had teams in artillery or high altitude bombing or something.”  
“Beginning salute.”  The instructor said.  “En garde.”  Paris brought her foil down sharply. Right side advance.”  
“You okay?”  Rory asked as Paris advanced on her, swinging her foil with a flourish.  
“Why do you ask?”  Paris responded.  The teacher continued calling out directions and Paris’ advance became more and more aggressive.  
“You just seem weird.”  Rory told her.  Paris smacked Rory’s foil loudly with her own.  “Easy there, Paris.”  
“We’re fencing Rory, not playing patty cake.”  Paris retorted.  “You know, it’s interesting how you think you know someone.”  She advanced again, emphasizing every word she spoke with the clang of her foil meeting Rory’s.  “Trust a person, rely on a person, then turn around one day and realize you’d been had. Ever experience that?”  Her advance had driven Rory backward all the way across the room.  
“Paris!”  Rory cried, but every time she raised her foil to block her Paris knocked it out of the way.  “You’re not supposed to be parrying that hard.”  
“I hate being had!”  Paris was yelling now.  
“Why are you telling me this?”  Rory was flabbergasted.  All she had ever done was stick up for Paris and try to watch her back.  
“Gee, I’m sorry. Maybe I should turn around so you can go ahead and just stab me in the back!”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“You and Francie!”  
“Paris, I –”  She tried to explain but Paris interrupted her.  
“Don’t make that face at me!”  Paris cried.  They had given up all pretense of fencing by this time.  
“What face?”  Rory asked.  “I’m wearing a mask.”  
“The "I’m Rory, don’t you want to pet me?" face. I know you two have been meeting behind my back.”  
“It’s not like that!  We met once.  Well, twice, but the second one was my idea.”  
“Aha, you admit it.”  
“Yes, but it wasn’t what you think.”  
“Brutus!”  Paris renewed her attack with vigor, and this time Rory fought to keep up.  Their foils clanged as they lunged and parried back and forth.  The rest of the class stopped what they were doing to watch.  Finally their grips locked and they found themselves face-to-face.  Rory pulled her helmet off.  She needed Paris to see her face.  
“Paris, you have to listen to me. Francie wanted to meet, she said she wanted to call a truce. She’s setting me up, and she’s trying to manipulate you.”  
“Of course she is.”  Paris scoffed.  “You think I don’t know when someone’s trying to manipulate me? But that doesn’t change the fact that you met with her behind my back.”  Paris pulled her helmet back down and pushed Rory away from her.  
“I was trying to help you.”  
“You were? You mean, in between betraying me and selling me out, you were trying to help me? Gee, you are quite the Renaissance woman, aren’t you?”  Paris was taking wild swings at Rory with her foil.  
“Stop it!”  Rory pleaded, jumping out of the way while trying in vain to block Paris’ attack.  Finally Paris disarmed her and Rory decided to run for it.   
“Come back here, Gilmore!”  Paris gave chase.  “Come back and fight like a man.”  

Rory darted and wove through the other students in her attempt to evade Paris, but she tripped over her own feet and sprawled headlong onto the gymnasium floor.  She flipped over on her back just in time for Paris to stand over her with her foil pointed at Rory’s throat.

“How could you?!”  She spat.  “How could you tell  _ her _ about Jamie?”  Rory could hear Paris’ voice break with barely controlled emotion.  “I can’t believe I ever considered you my best friend.”  She said coldly, then turned and left the room.

Rory sat unmoving on the floor, dumbfounded.  She couldn’t believe she had forgotten the promise she had made, that she wouldn’t tell anyone about Jamie until Paris was ready.  She let her head fall back onto the floor and wished she could fall all the way through it.   
  


* * *  
  
By the time Rory and Lorelai arrived for Friday night dinner, Rory was still venting about everything that had happened the day before.

“I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe I got sucked in like that.”  She shook her head.  
“Ugh, that Francie is pure evil.”  Lorelai commiserated.  “She’ll probably wind up president.”  
“Paris is so upset.  I completely betrayed her.”  
“She’ll calm down.”  
“Paris has never calmed down.”  
“She’ll calm down.”  Lorelai repeated confidently.  
“I can’t believe I was her best friend. I feel awful.”  
“Look, I’ll tell you what. If you wanna make things right, when you go back to school on Monday just let her stab you.”  Lorelai joked.

“Great idea.”  Rory rolled her eyes.  
“I’m nothing if not full of suggestions.”  
“Or full of something.”  Rory joined in on the joke half-heartedly.  Lorelai couldn’t bear to see her daughter so disheartened.  
“Do you want me to talk to Francie?”  She asked.  “You know, arrange a sit-down?”  
“No, thanks.”  
“Come on! We’ll have it in an Italian restaurant. You’ll get up, go to the bathroom, come back out shooting, and then I’ll send you to Italy.”  
“Well, I do wanna go to Italy.”  Rory brightened a little.  
“Two birds with one stone, my friend.”  Lorelai grinned.

Rory grinned back, trying to let her mom's good mood cheer her up.  She told herself everything would be okay.  After all, Paris couldn't stay mad forever right?


	8. Chapter 8

Rory wasn’t sure about forever, but Paris could stay mad for a very, very long time.  The last two weeks of school before winter break was torturous.  No one spoke to her, which she would have appreciated back when she first started at Chilton but now found to be painful.  Plus, Paris refused to give her any articles to write for the Franklin.  Rather than looking forward to actually having a break from schoolwork, Rory saw it for the snub it truly was.

On the last day before break, Rory tried one more time to make amends.

“Hey Madeline. I've got the notes you wanted.”  Rory called after her, vainly hoping that of the three of them Madeline might still be nice to her.  
“No thanks.”  Madeline answered without looking at her.  
“No these are the ones you asked for. The biology notes from Tuesday. The other day you said you-”  
“No thanks!”  Madeline repeated loudly.

“Nice try, Mary.”  Louise sneered.  
“Mary? Oh no, not this Virgin Mary thing again.”  Rory groaned.  
“Not virgin. Typhoid.”  
Rory stopped walking, defeated.  Then Paris turned back around to face her.  
“You know, when we met two years ago, I didn't like you because I thought you were some rube from the sticks and I have no patience for rubes.”  
“How very enlightening.”  
“But then I discovered that you're not so dumb. You even seemed modestly interesting at times. That's when I made a very big mistake. I let my guard down. That won't happen again.”

“Paris-”  
“By the way, are you still applying for that summer journalism internship?”  
“You know I am.”  Rory crossed her arms.  
“You're going to need a faculty recommendation.”  Paris reminded her.  
“I think I can swing it.”  
“And the support of the student editor.”  
“I'm not worried.”  
“Worry.”  Paris grinned.  “I just got the job.”  
“Oh.”  Rory’s heart sank.  “Congratulations.”  
“Thank you. And don't worry, you'll have some role.  Too bad I already filled the spot for music coverage. You know, record reviewing and such. You'd have been perfect for it. I gave the job to Louise.”  
“Louise only owns two CDs!”  Rory protested.  
“Yeah.”  Paris nodded.  “Well, gotta go. Have a really good Christmas.”

* * *

 

Rory was fuming the entire bus ride home.  She just couldn’t believe how vindictive Paris was.  Luckily, living in Stars Hollow meant she didn’t feel mad for long.  The minute she got off the bus she felt her stress melt away.  The town was decked out in holiday trimmings and thousands of twinkle lights.  And Rory finally had time to catch up with Lane, who she rarely got to see anymore since studying kept her busy and Lane had started drumming in a band.  That weekend, the two girls helped Lorelai clean out their small garage to make a practice space for Lane’s band, chatting happily the whole time.

“I’ve never really felt this way before.”  Lane was saying.  “I mean Henry, yes, but we never spent any real time together. But this is not just puppy love, you know, it’s different.  I get butterflies in my stomach when I think about him, and when I call him to work out times for band practice, the ring of his telephone gets me really excited. And last week, someone said Dave at school – it wasn’t even about my Dave, and I almost lost it, I got so shaky.”  
“‘My Dave’” Rory gushed.  “That’s so cute!”  
“Stop it.”  Lane told her, but smiled in spite of herself.  
“This sounds like love to me.”  
“It does, doesn’t it? My first love, wow.”  
“Yeah, wow.”

They finished the garage just in time for the rest of the band to arrive.

“Hello Stars Hollow, are you ready to rock?”  Dave Rygalski, Lane’s Dave, called out as he approached them.  
“Ready for band practice tonight?”  Rory asked him.  
“Yes, we’re going to learn our fourth song. That’s practically a set.”  He answered.  
“Hm, I’m impressed.”  
“And then once we have a set, we’ll get a gig, and then once we get a gig, we’ll get a record deal.”  Lane told them confidently.  
“And then after we get a record deal, we’ll get really famous and then we’ll have to give all of these interviews about how horrible it is to be really famous and how we never wanted this in the first place, all we care about is the music, and fame is gonna tear us apart. It’s gonna be great!”  Dave agreed.  He hoisted his guitar case and headed into the garage to start setting up.

“I already talked to the neighbors.”  Lorelai told them.  “Just make sure you keep the doors closed, and the music must stop by eight.”  
“Don’t worry, I have to be home by six.”  Lane told her, then gave her a huge hug around her middle.  “Thank you so much for this, Lorelai.  I love you!”  Then she turned to Rory.  “Do you know how amazing your mother is?”

“She makes sure to remind me every day.”  Rory grinned.

The two girls then noticed Zach, their guitarist, staring at Lorelai.  
“So, um, Rory showed you the key.”  Lorelai told them with obvious discomfort.  “Uh, you’re welcome to anything in the kitchen, which is nothing, but, uh, the water’s yours for the taking. Just replace the bottle if it’s out.  See you guys later!”  She turned and fled back towards the house.  
“Bye Pam!”  Rory called after her, laughing.  She would have thought that Lorelai was used to male attention by now, even from eighteen-year-olds.

“She is some kind of fine.”  Zach mused, also watching Lorelai’s retreat.  
“Zach, some help would be great.”  Brian grunted as he attempted to get one of their amps out of the van.  
“Relax.”  Zach sauntered over to help him.  
“I still can’t believe you guys are letting us rehearse here.”  Lane told Rory yet again.  
“You can thank us in the liner notes.”  Rory replied.  
“Right under our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”  Lane promised, and Rory couldn’t actually tell if she was joking or not.  
“Okay, I’m done.”  Brian announced.  
“Me too.”  Zach said.  
“Let’s do this!”  Dave crowed, taking his place behind the central microphone.  
“God, he’s wonderful.”  Lane gazed at Dave adoringly for a moment before sitting behind her drum set and counting them down.

 

* * *  
  


Rory had so much fun over winter break, the two weeks off just flew by.  She and Lorelai binged movies while once again attempting international grab bag night from Al’s Pancake World, and she went to the winter carnival with Lane.  She even forgot to worry about the situation at school.

By the time Monday came around she went to school feeling refreshed.  She got to her locker and saw Paris, Madeline, and Louise nearby.

“I met his parents.”  Paris told was telling them, loudly enough that everyone in the hallway could hear her.  
“You did?”  Madeline asked.  
“He bought me a ticket, and I took the train to Philadelphia, and he met me at the station, and I spent Christmas with him and his family.”  
“Sounds nice.”  Louise hung on her every word.  
“No, not nice. It was perfect.”  Paris bragged.  “They had a Christmas tree twelve feet tall. Everything was red and silver and there was eggnog. Have you ever had eggnog?”  
“Yes, I have.”  Madeline answered.  
“It’s disgusting.”  Louise wrinkled her nose.  
“But disgusting in a really great way. And they had tiny wreaths hanging from every doorknob, and mistletoe and candles everywhere. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I’ve never had a Christmas before. One year, I asked my mother if we could get a Chanukah bush. She made me watch Shoah the rest of the week.”  
“Wow.”  Madeline said.  
“The place smelled like cinnamon all the time, and there was a fire in the fireplace, and a ton of presents. I mean, hundreds of presents. I’m looking at this mound of gifts, and I’m thinking, ‘Eight days of Chanukah. . . who was the skinflint who thought up that deal?’”  
“Don’t the eight days symbolize something?”  Louise asked.  
“Yes, they symbolize eight days of ripping off the little kids who can’t have a Chanukah bush.”  
“You’re making me sad.”  Madeline frowned.  
“I had the most amazing time. Sitting around the tree opening presents, and they played Christmas music and we drank apple cider. . .it was so nice. And then his grandfather and I wound up in a theological discussion. Jesus – Messiah or nice Jewish kid with a hammer? It got pretty heated.”  Paris grinned at the memory.  
“Okay, skip to the end, I can’t take it. How did it turn out?”  Louise asked.  
“He told me he loved me.”  Paris beamed and the other two squealed in delight.  “He invited me back up for Easter break.”  
“You’re going, I assume?”  Madeline asked.  
“Are you kidding? And miss a chance to debate Christ rising from the dead? I’m so there.”  
“Jamie’s a lucky man.”  Louise drawled, but Paris was too happy to notice the sarcasm.  Rory approached them, hopeful that Paris’ obvious elation would have erased any malice that Paris held toward her for spilling her secret.  She was wrong.  The three girls brushed past her without so much as a word, and Paris leveled a look at her that would wither the strongest of hearts.

 

That day at lunch, Rory opted to sit outside on a bench and eat rather than endure the humiliation of sitting alone like she had before the break.  She had finished eating and was flipping through her  _ Portable Dorothy Parker _ when Paris’ voice was suddenly right behind her.

“‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments, love is not love which alters when it alterations finds or bends with the remover to remove - oh no! It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark who worth’s unknown although his height be taken’”  Paris leaned in closer.  “You’re going down.”  She told Rory with cold certainty.


	9. Chapter 9

That afternoon, Rory approached the student council meeting with dread.  She had no idea what Paris had in store for her now.  But when she walked in the door, Paris was nowhere to be seen.  She took her seat and waited with everyone else.  Finally, after what felt like forever, Mr. Hunter approached Rory.  
“Rory, where is Paris?”  He asked her.  
“I don’t know.”  Rory shrugged.  
“She’s almost fifteen minutes late.”  
“Is she?”  
“All right. Well, perhaps we should start without her. You can convene the meeting.”  
“Okay."  Rory stood up, holding Paris' gavel in her hand.  "If everyone will take their seats, we can call this meeting to order. All right, since Paris isn’t here –”  
“Paris is here!”  Paris called as she hurried into the room.  “Couldn’t wait to jump in there and take over, could you?”  She whispered to Rory under her breath.  
“Tell it to the Timex salesman.”  Rory snapped as she sat back down.  
“My gavel, please? I call this meeting to order.”  Paris banged the gavel loudly.  
“I already did that.”  Rory muttered.  
“Sorry I’m late, but I had some very important business to attend to. Business which I must now, unfortunately, share with all of you. At the beginning of this year, when we were sworn in as your government representatives, we placed our hand on a bible and we took an oath. An oath that stated that our behavior would be ethically and morally upstanding for as long as we were serving in public office. And that is why it saddens me greatly today to inform you that one of our own has forsaken that holy oath.”  
“What are you talking about, Paris?”  Mr. Hunter asked.  
“I hold in my hand evidence accusing one Rory Gilmore of committing high crimes and misdemeanors.”  
“What?!”  Rory sat up in her chair, jaw dropping.  She knew Paris was plotting something, but this...  
“Paris, what’s going on here?”  Mr. Hunter asked again.  
“Miss Gilmore has been conspiring with the various factions of this school to weaken the efficacy of this administration.”  Paris declared.  
“You’re really pathetic, you know that?”  Rory told her.  
“You’ll have your chance to address these charges when I’m done.”  
“What charges?”  
“First on the list, espionage.”  
“Espionage?”  Rory bit back a laugh.  Paris had really lost it this time.  
“Gathering privileged information and divulging it to the enemy.”  
“What privileged information? Prom colors are green and pink, pass it on?”  
“Next on our list, the most serious crime – treason.”  
“I’m sorry I talked about Jamie.”  Rory crossed her arms and sat back in her seat.  This was getting ridiculous.

“And having a big mouth. That’s going on the list also.”    
“I can’t believe you’re taking all of this out on me. What about Francie?”  
“Francie was not my second in command. Francie was not privy to the innermost workings of my personal. That is, not until you made her privy.”    
“Everyone in school saw you walking with Jamie, Paris.”  
“I’m still talking.”  Paris was yelling now.  
“She already knew!”  Rory yelled back.  
“Enough!”  Mr. Hunter raised his voice above theirs.  “We’ve heard enough.”  He said calmly when he had everyone’s attention.  
“I move to put to a vote the impeachment of Rory Gilmore.”  Paris said in her most quiet, deadly-serious voice.  
“Hey!”  Rory protested.  
“Miss Geller, I’m sorry, but we do not impeach here at Chilton.”  Mr. Hunter told her.  
“Why not?”  
“Because this is a student government.”  
“Well, then, I’d like to put to a vote a resolution to instate the ability to impeach.”  
“No.”  
“Then she should resign.”  Paris pointed her finger in Rory’s face.  
“I’m not going to resign. You have the problem, you resign.”  Rory jumped up out of her chair to point right back at Paris.  
“No, you resign!”  Paris screamed, getting right up in Rory’s face.  
“No, you resign!”  Rory glared down at her, feeling the blood rising in her cheeks in anger.  
“No, you resign!”  Paris refused to back down.  
“No one is resigning.”  Mr. Hunter threw his hands up in the air.  “You two can take this argument somewhere else. This is student council. Real school matters are the only things that matter here. Now, Paris, move on.”  
Rory sat back in her chair, fuming.  Paris stood quietly for a moment with her eyes closed.  When she opened them, she refused to acknowledge that Rory was even there.  
“The swimming pool needs re-plastering.”  She said, as if nothing at all had happened. “Ideas for fundraising, please.”

 

* * *

 

The next day in homeroom, Rory was instructed to go to the headmaster’s office.

“I got a note that I was supposed to come see Headmaster Charleston.”  Rory told the receptionist.  
“I’ll let him know you’re both here.”  She told her.  
“Both?”  Rory asked, suddenly certain she knew exactly what this was about.  
“Both.”  Paris repeated from where she sat outside the headmaster’s door.  
“Both.”  Rory groaned.  This couldn’t possibly get any worse.  
“Take a seat, please.”  The receptionist directed her.  
“Yes, ma’am.”  Rory plopped down on the seat farthest from Paris, but couldn’t resist questioning her.  “So what this time, trying to have me deported?”

“Oh, yeah, like I’m the one who called this meeting.”  Paris accused.  
“I certainly didn’t call this meeting.”  Rory shot back.  
“Save the act for Sundance, you little snitch.”  
“I didn’t snitch.”  
“Said the weak-kneed turncoat.”  
“Nixon’s bad seed!”  
“Daughter of Judas!”

They were turned toward each other, red-faced and eyes flashing, when Headmaster Charleston opened his door.  
“Ladies, come in please and have a seat.”  
They followed him in and sat in the two chairs he indicated.  He sat across from them and looked from one to the other, shaking his head.

“Chilton student council president and vice president in my office. . . not what I would’ve expected, I must tell you. There’s been quite a stir about you two since last semester. The school is buzzing with the talk of your clashes in fencing class, your face-offs in the hallway, a screaming match at the student council meeting.”  
“In regards to the student council meeting –”  Paris began.  
“Oh, you mean the one where you tried to impeach me because you haven’t been properly diagnosed yet?”  Rory’s anger had reached its utmost intensity.  
“If you’ll just allow me access to my briefs –”  Paris was still maintaining her composure in front of the headmaster, but just barely.

“You know what, you want me to quit? Fine, I’ll quit. I never wanted this stupid job in the first place.”  
“Who forced you to take it then?”  
“You did, because you didn’t think you’d get elected unless I ran with you.”  
“That’s not true!”  Paris’ composure snapped.  
“It’s completely true!”  
“Shut up!”  
“No, you shut up!”  
“Enough!”  Headmaster Charleston roared.  The two girls shrunk back into their chairs, both looking at the floor in chagrin.  “This behavior will stop this instant. It is disgraceful, especially from the political leaders of this campus. Now, I’d like to know what is actually driving this recent rash of infighting.”  Neither of them volunteered an answer.  “Oh, goody, I get to guess.”  Charleston griped.  “Well, let’s see, perhaps you’re arguing over the same boy?”  
“Sure, we’re girls, so we could only be arguing about a boy, right?”  Paris muttered. “Sexist, white-haired –”  
“Paris, are you muttering?”  The headmaster glared at her.  
“No,”  She sat up in her chair and met his eyes.   
“All right, if it isn’t a boy, perhaps it’s a popularity thing. Someone didn’t get invited to someone else’s party? Or perhaps this is a power struggle of some sort. No? Well, then I’ll stop guessing and start lecturing. Ms. Gilmore, you will not be quitting the student council, is that clear?”  He glared down at Rory.

“Yes, sir.”  She replied meekly.  
“The student body has elected you and therefore you will fulfill your commitment. And in the future, I would advise you to think long and hard about accepting any responsibility if you intend to run away from it at the first sign of conflict. And Ms. Gellar, you worked very hard to get to the position you hold in this school, and yet now you are willing to throw all that away on petty vendettas and childish antics. Indeed, it makes me wonder. . .if you two can’t resolve your issues in this sheltered – some would say pampered – environment, how on Earth will you ever survive in college? As student council officers, you represent Chilton to those inside and outside these hallowed halls. Right now, the world sees us as a group of sniveling, spiteful, vindictive individuals – not really what I’d hoped for, nor is that how I portrayed the two of you in my personal letter of recommendation to Harvard. I would hate to have to write a second letter to the university correcting my evaluation.”  
“Yes, sir.”  Rory said again with more authenticity.  She couldn’t bear the thought of Headmaster Charleston writing to Harvard about this incident.  
“Yes, sir.”  Paris also answered, but Rory thought she detected a note of defiance in her voice still.  
“Delightful. You may see yourselves out.” he dismissed them.

They left the office, and Rory felt ashamed of her behavior but also a little bit impressed at the way Paris had stood up to him, however indirectly.  She was more than ready for this feud to be over.  
“Well, that was delightful, wasn’t it?”  She told Paris in her most self-deprecating tone.  “I’m not sure which is more embarrassing – having Charleston yell at us or knowing we actually had a "shut up-no, you shut up" fight in front of him.”  Paris said nothing, so Rory tried again.  “So, what do you think, Paris? Do you feel as completely rotten as I do?”  
“No.”  Paris held Rory’s gaze for just a moment, then lifted her chin and walked away.  Rory sighed.  Paris was never going to forgive her.


	10. Chapter 10

“How long are you gonna keep it a secret?”  Lorelai asked Lane as their band practice was ending.  
“For awhile, at least.”  Lane answered.  “It’s easier.”  
“Are you sure it would be so bad if they knew? I mean, keeping this a secret seems awfully complicated.”  
“Not really, we’ve got a system.”  
“Um, speaking of which, it’s 3:18.”  Dave reminded her.  “We’ll have the stuff packed by 3:40, what’s the situation?”  
“At 3:40, my mom will be on her way to the yarn store for her bimonthly sew-a-thon with Lacey Schwartz and Bick Ho.”  
“The yarn store’s on Peach.”  
“Plum.”  Lane corrected him.  
“That cuts us off from our usual route to the interstate.”  Dave mused.  
“There’s a back road that circles around it, but it’s gonna be muddy from the rains.”  Lane suggested.  
“How about I have the guys take the usual route, I’ll go by foot on Peach, down the alley behind Al’s, over the fence, and they can pick me up a half a mile down by the Shell station.”  
“Perfect.”  Lane grinned at him as he took off.  “What, that's not complicated.  Dave has a natural gift for subterfuge.”  She told Lorelai.  
“Wow, a compliment from the master.”  Lorelai told her, bowing her head in deference, then headed back into the house.  
Lane noticed Rory walking up the driveway and ran out to meet her.  “Rory! Rory! The numbers are all adding up, the planets are aligning, and I am going to my senior prom!”  
“What?”  Rory asked in surprise.  She had been so wrapped up in schoolwork and avoiding Paris for the past couple of months that she had completely forgotten about senior prom.  
“Yes!”  Lane confirmed.  
“How?”  Rory asked, knowing Lane had yet to tell her parents that she was dating Dave.  
“Because I am brilliant.”  Lane congratulated herself.  “See, my mom was in a good mood today because she made a big sale – a dining room table and eight chairs, none of which matched, that have been hanging around the shop since I was four.”  
“Aw, I’m gonna miss those.”  Rory interjected.  
“Get over it.”  Lane told her good-naturedly.  “Anyway, I sat her down and I told her that I really wanted to go to the prom. And I know she doesn’t approve of such things, but if she lets me go, we will do it her way.”  
“But her way would be not to let you go.”  
“Yes, she said that also. But then I went on to clarify that if she lets me go, she would get full dress approval, full chaperone approval, and I promise not to actually dance at the prom.”  
“Nice move on using the word chaperone instead of the word date.”  
“The subliminal is half the battle, Rory.”  
“Go on, go on.”  
“So, she sat there, took it all in, and after a really long pause, she looks at me and says, 'Maybe'."  
“You got a maybe from Mrs. Kim.”  Rory said in wonderment.”  
“I got a maybe from Mrs. Kim.”  Lane repeated.  
“Now, we are talking Dave taking you to the prom, right?”  
“Of course. My mom loves him. Last week she let him sit in our pew.”  
“No!”  
“She made me move.”  
“You’ve been replaced.”  
“I’d be offended if I weren’t so busy doing a happy dance. It’s all working out so perfectly. By the time she says yes, she’ll love him even more and then when I say I wanna go to the prom with him, it’ll be like she picked him out herself.”  
“You _are_ brilliant!”  
“You know, she asked Dave to play at the wedding this weekend.”  Lane said, still beaming.

“I thought I was the only non-Korean allowed at the Kim family weddings.”  
“Don’t be hurt. You have been to so many of these weddings, you are an honorary member of the clan now.”  
“I appreciate that.”  
“You know, Rory, I feel good. I feel like everything’s going my way this time.”  
“I hope so.”  
“No, it is, I can feel it. Lane Kim is going to her prom.”  
“Maybe!”  Rory hugged her friend, happy that she was so happy.  But as Lane bounced away down the sidewalk, Rory couldn’t help but start to feel sad.  Now that she had been reminded of the prom, she was acutely aware that she herself would not be going.  Even if she enjoyed spending time with the kids at Chilton outside of class hours, she didn’t have a date and there didn’t really seem to be a point in going stag.  No one at Chilton knew Rory liked girls, and none of the girls at Chilton had caught her eye.  This was mostly because she was so focused on getting into an Ivy League college but also because Jess had left a hole in her heart that had yet to heal.  

The ache she felt whenever Jess crossed her mind came back so strongly now it knocked the breath out of her.  She guessed it was because she hadn’t stopped to think about anything besides school ever since Washington.  But thinking about Jess was pointless, or so she tried to tell herself.  Jess wanted different things out of life, and a different future for the two of them if Rory had decided to go with her.  Staying in school had been the right decision, Rory knew, but it was still hard.  

Rory caught her breath and turned to head into the house where her mom was most likely waiting for her.  Besides, even if Jess was still here Rory doubted there was any chance in hell that she would go to the prom with her.  Everything was better the way it was.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Lane called her in a panic.

“The team needs you Rory!”  She cried.

“What team?”  Rory asked, confused.  “You know I don’t follow sports.”

“Pick a team, any team, it needs you!”

“Okay.”

“Dave is not Korean.”  Lane told her like this was a huge revelation.

“Um...I don’t even know how to respond to that.”  Rory told her.

“Remember when I told my mom she would have full prom dress and escort approval?”

“Yes,”  Rory answered, starting to get an idea of where this was going.

“Well to Mrs. Kim, approval doesn’t mean I pick the guy and then she approves, oh no.”

“She picked a guy?”

“Oh, yeah. Remember Young Chui, the guy my mom introduced me to at the wedding? She arranged for him to take me to the prom.”  
“Oh.”  Rory comisserated.  “But what about-”

“Dave?”  Lane jumped in.  “Well, that’s where you come in.”

“Oh boy.”

“Please Rory?  Please do this one huge huge huge favor for your very best friend in the whole world?”  Lane begged, and Rory grinned even though Lane couldn’t see her over the phone.  
“Of course I’ll go to prom with Dave so you can meet him there!”  she told her.

“Thank you!  Oh, thank you thank you.  I owe you big time.”

 

That night Rory told her mom that she wanted to go to the Stars Hollow prom with Lane.  She left out the part about the date swapping.  She knew Lorelai would feel obligated to tell Mrs. Kim, something about a mom code.

“It's just if there was one more dance I wanna go to in my whole life, it'd be the Stars Hollow High prom, with Lane. That's a big part of it.”  Rory explained.  

“Uh huh.”  Lorelai eyed her daughter.  “Go have fun with Lane.  Oh, and say hi to Dave for me!”

“How’d you know?”

“Um, hi, it’s me.  You’re talking to the woman who took two dates to the winter formal sophomore year.  They had no idea!  I know all the tricks.”

“Please don’t tell Mrs. Kim?”  Rory begged.    
“Okay I’ll make you a deal.  Dave picks you up, escorts you to the ball, I assume you dance together exclusively, and he has you home by midnight and not a second later.  Oh, and I get to make your dress!”

“Deal!”  Rory grinned, and rushed off to call Lane and tell her the good news.

Lane was shrieking in delight as loudly as she dared while sitting in her closet talking on the phone.  When she finally calmed down they got right into planning the details.

“But how are you gonna make sure Young Chui knows he's not really taking you to the prom?”  Rory asked.  
“Oh, we’ve already talked to him. He’s totally on board.”  
“Really?”  
“Oh, yeah. See, he’s in love with this Japanese girl named Karen who his parents don’t approve of, so he and Karen see each other secretly while his parents keep setting him up with nice Korean girls. He’s the male me.”  
“Gotcha.”  
  
* * *

 

Finally the big night arrived.  Rory emerged from her room wearing the blue off-shoulder dress her mom had made.  Dave came to pick up Rory as planned, and Lorelai was armed and ready.  
“Say cheese!”  She told them as she took the umteenth picture.  “I love my little digital camera. I wanna marry it.”  
“Do you ever wanna put it away?”  Rory rolled her eyes.  
“Oh, you'll hurt little DigitalDan's feelings.”  
“Sorry, D.D.”  Rory pretended to pet the camera and Lorelai tried to snap a candid of her.  
“Gotcha! Oh, no, wait. Oh, missed.”  Lorelai frowned.  “Got a good one of you, though.”  She told Dave.

“Well, we should really get going.”  Dave checked his watch once again.  
“You're off to the prom this early?”  Lorelai asked.

“We’re meeting Lane and Young Chiu for dinner.”  Rory explained.  
“Okay, well have fun, remember curfew.  And keep in mind that getting up on a table and performing a song of any kind will haunt you for the rest of your life. Trust me. Been there, done that.”  
“I wasn't planning on doing that.”  
“Hm, those things are never planned. Hey, hon?”  
“Yeah?”

“You look amazing.”  Lorelai told her daughter, giving her a big hug.

“Thanks mom!”  Rory squeezed her back, then headed off to the prom.

 

Dave drove them to the restaurant and practically jumped out of the car as soon as he saw Lane standing outside.  She looked amazing in a black tea-length dress with lace sleeves.   
He rushed over and pulled her up into a hug, swinging her around.

“Hey.”  Lane said, grinning breathlessly as soon as he put her down.  
“You are so beautiful.”  He kissed her deeply and then looked around.  “So, where’s, uh, where’s Young Chui?”  
“Talking to Karen.”  Lane answered.  
“Who?”  
“His girlfriend.”  
“Oh, right. That’s cool, okay.”  Dave straightened his jacket and went inside the restaurant to get their table.  
“Well, well, well.”  Rory said, grinning.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone is trying to assert his claim on you.”  
“What do you mean?”  Lane asked, then thought about it.  “He’s jealous. Oh my God, he’s jealous, that’s so great.”  
“You’ve worked your womanly wiles on him, Lane Kim.”  
“I’ve never made a guy jealous before. I feel so powerful.”  
“Just remember, there’s cute jealous and there’s Othello.”  
“Good point.”  They entered the restaurant together.

“So is that Young Chui?”  Rory pointed to a guy sitting in the waiting area talking on the phone.  
“You mean the guy with the cell phone stapled to his ear – yeah, that’s him.”  Lane answered.  

“He looks kind of serious.”  
“Well, Karen has been feeling a little insecure about this whole thing tonight.”  
“But she’s his real girlfriend.”  
“I think she’s not quite as cool as Dave is about the whole fake dating thing. She needs reassurance.”  
“Well, Dave is pretty cool.”  Rory said.  
“The coolest, isn’t he?”  Lane stared over at Dave adoringly while he checked them in for their reservation.  But then Young Chiu interrupted to ask Lane to talk to Karen for him.

“Believe me, I am not interested in Young Chui in that way."  Lane said into the phone. "He’s cute and all, but I’ve got a guy. No, no, when I say he’s cute, I just mean he’s your boyfriend and you’ve got good taste, that’s all. Hey, Koreans do not have problems!”  Lane handed the phone back to him.  “You talk to her, I’m done.”  
“Karen?”  Young Chui went back to pacing in front of the restrooms while talking on his phone.  
“That went well.”  Rory laughed.  
  


After stuffing their faces with delicious Italian food, the four of them arrived at the Stars Hollow prom.  As they were walking in the front doors Rory was overcome with nostalgia, remembering her freshman year here with Lane before all the craziness and stress of Chilton.  She wasn’t watching where she was going and bumped right into the girl in front of her.  
“Oh.”  The girl said, flipping her short blonde hair behind her ear.  
“I’m so sorry!”  Rory apologized, then suddenly recognized the girl from when they went to school together.  “Hey Lindsay, how are you?”  
“Hi Lindsay.”  Lane joined in.  
“Hi. I’m good, thanks.”  Lindsay returned rather curtly.  “Um, how are you?”  
“Good. You know, I don’t think we’ve seen each other since I left Stars Hollow High. What have you been up to?”  Rory asked her.  
“Oh, you know, nothing really. The usual, school.”

“Right, sure.”  Rory frowned.  She had always remembered Lindsay favorably and wasn’t sure why she was giving off such a negative vibe.  
“School.”  Lane joined in, trying to break the ice.  “Me too, but you know that since we go to school together.”  
“Well, I should be getting in there. Um, it was good seeing you again.”  Lindsay turned quickly and headed inside.  
“You, too.”  Rory told her.  
“Bye.”  Lane added.  
“Okay, so that was weird, right?”  Rory asked Lane after Lindsay had disappeared inside the gym, wondering if it was just her.  
“Oh, yeah, really weird.”  Lane agreed.  
“But I didn’t do anything, did I?”  
“You mean like ask her how she was? Yeah, you probably made an enemy for life.”  
“Maybe she’s angry because I didn’t keep in touch after I left, but we weren’t that good of friends.”  
“Maybe, or it could be that Chilton thing.”  
“What Chilton thing?”  Rory asked, confused.  
“Well, you know how some people think because you went to Chilton, you’re a snob and think you’re better than everyone else.”  
“What? Who thinks that?”  Rory was suddenly questioning her decision to come back to her old high school for prom.  
“Well, you know, like uh, Julie Lersten, Kristin Keiffer, Jill Allen. Haven’t we talked about this?”  
“No.”  
They entered the gym and spent a moment admiring all of the decorations.  
“So, who else thinks I’m a snob?”  Rory asked Lane, but then she turned around and stopped short when she saw Lindsay kissing her ex-boyfriend Dean.  “Um, I guess it wasn’t the Chilton thing after all.”  She grabbed Lane’s sleeve and pointed to what she was seeing.  
“Oh my god.”  Lane gasped.  Then she clapped a hand to her forehead.  “This is all my fault.”  
“What?  Lane.”  
“I let you down. I’m supposed to be your eyes and ears in that school, and here’s the biggest piece of news all year and I had no idea.”  
“It’s okay.”  
“No, it’s not. This is an intelligence gaffe of monumental proportions. What was I doing that I didn’t notice this?”  
“Studying, taking classes…”  
“Well, no more.”  Lane promised.  
“Lane, it’s not a big deal, really. And now I know, so, case closed.”  
“You’re sure?”  
“Positive.”  Rory assured her.  “Let’s just enjoy the dance.”

 

A while later Rory was at the drink table when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hey.”  Dean said from behind her.  
“Dean!”  Rory whirled around.  “Hey, how are you? So, I ran into Lindsay.  I mean like, literally ran into her.”  She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t stop.  The last time they had talked had been right after he broke up with her, for good reason.  
“Really?”  He smiled at the mention of LIndsay’s name.  
“Yeah, and I think you two are great together.”  
“You do?”  Dean looked surprised.  
“Absolutely. I mean, she’s cute and smart and really nice.”  
“I know.”  Dean laughed and Rory wanted to kick herself.  Of course he knew all those things about her.  She had no idea how to navigate these awkward waters with him.  
“Like once, in fourth grade, we went on a field trip to Mark Twain’s house, and I really wanted this refrigerator magnet in the shape of Mark Twain’s head, but I didn’t have any money, so she bought it for me, and she wouldn’t even let me pay her back. Pretty classy for a fourth grader.”  Rory babbled some more to cover her embarrassment.  
“That sounds like Lindsay.”  
“Exactly.”  She punched him lightly on the shoulder.  “So, good job, mister.”  
“Thanks. So, how are things with you?”  
“Oh, good, good.”  Rory was nodding her head and feeling like a complete idiot.  
“Yeah, well, uh, I’d better go. I gotta get these drinks over to Lindsay.”  
“Right. Sure. Have fun.”  She waved, and as he turned to leave he stopped and looked at her.

“It was really good to see you again Rory.”  He smiled his big smile and then disappeared into the crowd.  Rory sighed in contentment.  Dean didn’t hate her anymore.

 

Overall the prom was a lot of fun.  Rory danced to most of the songs with Lane and Dave and a bunch of people she sort of recognized.  She stopped during the slow songs and drank a lot of punch and tried not to think about Jess.  When it was over, she decided she was really glad that she went.


	11. Chapter 11

A week later, Lane rushed into Luke’s carrying a heavy bag.

“These are them!”  She squealed, and pulled out a large stack of printed photos.  “Prom pictures!”  
“Lane, how many did you take?”  Rory wondered, taking the stack from her.  
“Three hundred.”  Lane grinned.  “I'll leave them with you, they're pretty self explanatory.”  
“What's this?”  Rory asked, holding up the first photo.  
“Our chicken piccata.”  
“Ah, and this?”  
“Our chicken piccata after one bite.”  
“So, don't tell me,”  Rory flipped to the third photo, “two bites?”  
“Yup.”  
“Okay, I think I can follow this.”  
“Gotta run. Keep 'em in order!”  
“I will!”  Rory smiled as she looked through the documentation of their prom night.  There was a great photo of the four of them, posed with Lane and Dave in the middle so that they stood next to each other but a casual observer wouldn’t necessarily guess they were together.  Rory shook her head.  She remembered when she had been keeping her feelings for Jess a secret from her mom and from Lane, and how it had torn her up inside.  She couldn’t imagine keeping their whole relationship a secret, the way Lane had to with Dave.  It didn’t seem fair.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.”  Rory apologized as she rushed into the newspaper room late.  
“The issue is a disaster.”  Paris griped.  “It's our last issue of the Franklin and it's a complete disaster.”  
“I'm sure it's not that bad.”  Rory tried reassuring her.  
“And that's why you won't need to Botox your frown lines on your nineteenth birthday.”  She snapped.  “Not that picture, no, put it down.”  She yelled at one of the freshman.  “Put it down now!”  
Rory snuck away quietly, deciding to see how Madeline and Louise were handling layout.  
“How's it coming?”  She asked them.  
“Very frustrating.”  Louise told her.  
“We just can't seem to get exactly the right combination.”  Madeline added.  
“All right. How about blue dress, blonde guy, black limo? Works best for me.”  Louise suggested.

“Yes, however, green dress, red-haired guy, white limo works best for me.”  Madeline countered.   
“I'm assuming this conversation veered off of the Franklin cover page placement and into yearbook prom pictures?”  Rory interjected.  They ignored her.  
“How about black-haired guy, green dress and tan limo?”  Madeline suggested.  
“Tan limo?”  Louise mused.  “Well, this opens up a whole new set of options. Bring the golf team back in.”  
“Okay, why don't I just get these pesky Franklin articles out of your way.”  Rory started gathering up all of the articles off the table.  “There we go.”  
“What are you doing?”  Paris demanded.  
“I am working on the front page placement.”  Rory told her.  
“What are they doing?”  She pointed to Madeline and Louise.  
“Staying true to who they are.”  
“Look, prom is once. It happens, it's photographed, and then it's there forever.”  Louise snapped.  
“No arguments here, it’s just that we have a lot of work to get done and-”  
“As you were.”  Paris instructed them, cutting Rory off.  “Gilmore, why don’t you make yourself useful and match up these photos to their articles.”  
Rory took the photos from her.  The first one was the group photo of the Franklin staff that they had taken last week.

“Um, Paris.”  Rory called out in dismay.  
“Yes?”  Paris raised her eyebrows.  
“I’m sneezing.”  
“What?”  
“In the picture. I’m sneezing and my head is turned.”  
“Oh, yeah.”  Paris shrugged.  “I noticed that, but every picture had something wrong with it and I had to pick the one that was the best for the largest number of people.”  
“We took ninety pictures.”  
“What’s your point?”  
“My point is in ninety tries, there wasn’t one other picture that was good for the group and didn’t have me looking like I’m in Cirque du Soleil?”  
“Sorry. Life can play some cruel tricks sometimes.”  
“Life had a little help from the Gellar camp this time.”  Rory muttered as Paris walked away.  Time had not tempered Paris’ fury one bit.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, Rory and Lorelai were lounging on the couch reading.  Neither was able to concentrate, they were expecting Rory’s acceptance letter to Harvard in the mail.  When Lorelai heard the mailman drive up she threw her magazine across the room and jumped up.

“Mail!”  She cried.  
“Mail!”  Rory screeched, scrambling to get up.  
“Hurry up! Where are your shoes?”  Lorelai asked her.

“I’ll get ‘em later.”  Rory was bouncing up and down in anticipation.  
“No, get ‘em now.”  
“Why?”  
“Why? Because if your Harvard acceptance letter is in that batch of mail and you do not have shoes on, we can’t run off immediately and celebrate. All of our happiness will be on hold until you come back inside and put on your shoes. Is that what you want, to put a hold on happiness?”  
“What’s the difference if we wait then or we wait now?”  Rory whined.  
“Because we are not happy now.”  
“Right, okay.”  She ran to her room.  
“No laces, just get ‘em on your feet.”  Lorelai called after her.  
“Let’s go!”

They ran down the drive and stood on either side of the mail carrier, jogging in place.  
“Kirk!”  They cried impatiently in unison.  
“Good afternoon, ladies.”  He greeted them.  
“Is there an envelope in there?”  Lorelai demanded.  
“A big envelope, not a little envelope.”  Rory clarified.  
“Yeah, a big envelope means she’s in, a little envelope means she needs to marry rich.”  Lorelai quipped.  
“Like I even have that option!”  Rory shot back, too nervous to joke.  
“Just one second, please.”  Kirk thumbed through his bag of mail.  
“Aren’t you supposed to go through the mail before you get here?”  Rory’s voice was verging on shrill.  
“Some work that way. Personally, I think it takes the spontaneity out of the job.”  
“Need some help?”  Lorelai offered.  
“Sorry, federal law prohibits it.”  Kirk answered self-importantly.  
“Any chance you could go faster?”  Rory asked, trying to remain polite.  
“Yeah, you got a girl’s future in that sack of yours, Santa.”  Lorelai added.  
“You know what I’ve noticed?”  Kirk mused, stopping what he was doing.  
“It wouldn’t be any mail in there with our names on it, would it?”  
“I’ve noticed people don’t slow down anymore.”  He said.  
“Guess I’ve got time to tie my shoes.”  Rory stopped jogging in place and bent to tie her laces.  
“Might as well cobble yourself a new pair, Daniel Day Lewis.”  Lorelai muttered, also ceasing the jogging.  
“No one stops to smell a nice flower or look at a puppy.”  Kirk continued.  He pulled a large white envelope out of his bag without looking at it.  Rory and Lorelai snapped to attention.  “No one stops to ask how you’re doing. . .is your family well, did you see that game last night?”  
“Yeah, yeah, people suck. Is that ours?”  Lorelai made to grab the envelope but Kirk kept it out of her reach.  
“What?”  He asked, then finally read the name written on it.  “Nope, Mrs. Rita Flora.”  
“Rats.”  Rory complained.  
“It could still be in there.”  Lorelai tried to cheer her up.

“Rita Flora – didn’t she die?”  Kirk wondered.  
“While you were delivering her mail?”  Lorelai glared at him.  
“She did die. She died last week.”  He nodded.  
“Kirk!”   
“They’re supposed to put your mail on hold when you die.”  He grumbled, walking away aimlessly.  
“Okay, let’s go back inside.”  Rory said in defeat.  
“We’ll check back on our way home from Luke’s. . .for dinner.”  Lorelai added.  
Kirk had started thumbing through his bag again on his way back to his vehicle.  “Hey, one for Kirk!”  He cried happily, then proceeded to sit cross-legged on the corner of their lawn and read it.

 

Lane joined them for dinner.  She was still buoyantly happy with drumming in her band and dating Dave, plus the fact that her parents were still in the dark about all of it.  She couldn’t sit still, drumming absentmindedly on the table as she talked.

“It’s getting frustrating. I mean, there’s so many great songs that have been written post-Cobain, but try and convince Zach of that. I mean, he’s impossible, stubborn, and just a tad intellectually challenged, in case you haven’t noticed.”  
“Lane, honey?”  Lorelai asked her as sweetly as she could muster.  
“Yeah?”  
“Just, could you, with the sticks there, I can’t. . .”  
“Oh, sorry. Nervous habit.”  Lane stopped drumming and stashed her drumsticks in her bag.

“Mom’s a little crabby this evening.”  Rory explained.  
“I’m not crabby, I’m very, very ill.”  
“With allergies.”  Rory rolled her eyes.  
“Deadly allergies.”  Lorelai insisted.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to minimize your condition. Should we make funeral arrangements now?”  Rory snipped.  She was still feeling crabby herself, and impatient.  
“Yes.”  Lorelai agreed dramatically.  “But make sure you can get your money back in case this stuff works.”  She popped a yellow pill into her mouth and washed it down with coffee.  
“Where did you get those?”  Rory demanded.  
“Found ‘em in your room.”  
“These expired in ‘98.”  Rory examined the box.  
“So, what, I should take four?”  
“Yes, that’s exactly my point.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Can we go now?”  Rory couldn’t think of anything else until she knew if her acceptance letter had arrived.  She refused to think of the alternative possibility.

By the time they walked back to their house and stood in front of their mailbox she was a bundle of nerves.  Lorelai took the plunge for her and opened it.  Slowly, she pulled out a large white envelope with the Harvard insignia on the corner.

“The big one.”  Lorelai whispered in awe.  She had been helping her daughter work toward this goal since she was in elementary school.  Seeing the results of their hard work in her hand was overwhelming.  And then she reached back in and pulled out two more large white envelopes.  
“Wow.”  She gasped.  “So, what now?”  
“I don’t know.”  Rory murmured, equally speechless.  
“Well, what does this mean?”  Lorelai asked.  
“I don’t know.”  Rory said again.  They walked toward the house, examining the envelopes in their hands.  The other two were from Princeton and Yale.  
“Which one are you gonna choose?”  Lorelai asked her daughter, simultaneously elated and frightened by the possible answer.  
“I don’t know.”  Rory repeated, dazed.  
“I guess we better go inside. We both have a lot of things to figure out, huh?”  Lorelai put her arm around Rory’s shoulder, knowing that no matter what she decided she would be there to help her.  
  
* * *

 

“Okay, let's see.”  Lorelai murmured as she sat down with Rory to write out their pro-con list.  “Looks like Harvard definitely has the smallest class sizes.”  
“Okay, we've got our first entry here. It's a pro for Harvard.”  
“Oh, whoa, whoa, those are not the final official pro/con lists.”  Lorelai put her hand up when she saw what Rory had written.  
“Why? What's wrong with them?”  Rory felt panicked.  
“Well, the lines are crooked, the printing's all sloppy. Harvard, Princeton and Yale cannot see them looking like that.”  
“They're not going to see our pro/con lists.”  Rory sighed in exasperation.  
“What if they subpoena them?”  Lorelai asked.  
“Then I'll roll ‘em up in a ball and eat ‘em.”  
“Oh, a big pro for Yale – they have 1100 members of the maintenance staff. Clean, clean, clean.”  Lorelai was perusing their brochures.  
“All three of these places probably have the same number.”  
“But Yale must be crowing about it for some reason. Princeton might only have two.”  
“Two?”  Rory was skeptical.  “You think there're a total of two guys cleaning all of Princeton?”  
“Write 'Princeton's stinking filthy' in big letters.”  
“Yeah, I'm pretending to write it as we speak.”  
Luke came up to their table to refill their coffee cups.

“What's with the lists?”  He asked.  
“You ready?”  Lorelai beamed.  “My Rory, our Rory, Stars Hollow's Rory. . .got into Harvard, Princeton, and Yale.”  
“Wow, wow, wow, I can't believe it. I – I feel like I. . .”  Luke was almost speechless.  
“Yeah.”  Rory confirmed the news, and Luke gave her an awkward one-armed hug.  
“I'm not good at hugging.”  He shrugged.  
“Oh, I thought it worked.”  Rory smiled at him.  
“Man, this is big, right?”  
“Very big.”  
“But what's with all the pro/con lists?”  
“That's how we make our important decisions, you know that.”  Lorelai reminded him.  
“But you know what it's gonna be. Harvard.”  He declared.  
“Probably.”  Rory agreed.  
“But not necessarily.”  Lorelai pointed out.  
“But Harvard's all you've talked about for years.”  
“Well, who knew she'd be wanted by everyone?”  
“Hey, which school best teaches how to make an important life decision without doing a stupid pro/con list? Whichever one it is, add it to the pro column.”  Luke told Rory.  
“Do not mock the sciencificity of our selection process.”  Lorelai told him.  
“I've gotta head to school.”  Rory stood up and started gathering up her things.  
“Hey, why go anymore? You're in college. Let's go truffle hunting or something.”  Lorelai suggested.  
“Maybe after I graduate.”  
“All right, but if all the good truffles are gone, don't say I didn't warn you.”  
“Bye.”  Rory headed out.  She worked on her pro/con list all the rest of the day, taking care to make sure Paris couldn’t see what she was working on, and late into the night until she collapsed in bed fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

That night, Rory was awakened in the middle of the night by the phone ringing.  It was Tobin, the night manager of the Independence Inn where Lorelai was the manager.  There had been a fire and everyone was evacuating.  They spent the early hours of the morning and the rest of the next day helping the guests find places to stay and making sure everyone was alright.  By that evening, Rory was exhausted.  She was packing her things to go stay with Lane so that some of the guests could stay in her room when Lorelai knocked on her door.

“Got all your stuff for Lane's?”  she asked.  
“Yeah, it wasn't a hard packing job.”  Rory answered.  
“Wow, these have really changed.”  Lorelai said in surprise as she looked at the papers on Rory’s desk.  
“What have?”  Rory asked, too tired to go see what her mom was looking at.  
“The pro/con lists. In all the hubbub, they slipped my mind.”  She looked up at her daughter, her face inscrutable.  “Yale.”  She said simply.

“What about it?”  
“Yale.”  Lorelai stated again.  
“What do you mean?”  
“Yale.”  
“Stop saying Yale.”  Rory was quickly losing her patience.  
“It has double the pros of the other two.”  
“I wouldn't say double.”  
“Triple over filthy, dirty Princeton. It's kicking butt.”  
“But I'm not done collecting my data yet.”  Rory frowned.  
“You have a document the length of Nicholas Nickleby here. Looks like you're done.”  
“But. . .”  
“What?”  
“Look at my wall.”  Rory made a wide sweeping gesture with her arm toward the cork board covered with Harvard paraphernalia.  
“So?”  
“So that wall says something.”  
“Yeah, it says the Harvard merchandising department made a nice chunk of change off of us.”  Lorelai quipped.  
“But how can I go to Yale with my wall looking like this?”  Rory felt close to tears.  
“It's just a wall. Look, honey, Luke was right. The pro/con lists have to come to an end eventually.”  
“But Luke also reminded us that it was supposed to be Harvard regardless of a list. Everyone thinks that.”  
“I don't.”  Lorelai said matter-of-factly and Rory quirked an eyebrow up skeptically.  “I really don't. I know I'm the one who said no to Yale, loudly and a lot, but not anymore. Really, I just want what's right.”  
“I know, but it has to be right for both of us.”  
“If it's right for you, it's really right for me.”  
“But I don't want you to hate the place I'm going.”  Rory felt close to tears.  
“Never.”  Lorelai reassured her and pulled her into a hug.

“Yale.”  Rory exhaled and felt her stress start to melt away.  

When she returned the next morning, all of her Harvard posters and flags had been replaced by Yale's blue and white.

* * *

 

That Friday night, Lorelai and Rory knew it was time to tell the rest of the family about their decision.  Rory was nervous.  The subject of Yale had become a point of contention at the Gilmore house after her grandfather had tricked her into taking a meeting with the admissions director and Lorelai had thrown a fit.  She had no idea how their news was going to be received.

Lorelai was nervous too.  She kept babbling through cocktail hour and Emily was getting annoyed.  Now they were sitting at the dinner table waiting on a special meal and everyone was getting irritated.

“Richard, please, we are starving!”  Emily called toward the kitchen.  
“I will be right there, Emily.”  
“This is ridiculous.”  Emily griped.  
“Mom, relax.”  Lorelai sighed.  
“He woke up this morning and suddenly just had to have this dish that his grandmother would make him.”  
“Yeah, we all understand the cravings.”  
“It’s a family secret.”  Richard told them.  
“Well, last time I checked, I was family.”  Emily muttered.

“He’s having fun, Grandma.”  Rory entreated her to go easy on him.  
“I saw an open can of cream of mushroom soup.”  She responded.  “Nothing good can come of that.”  
“Here we are, a treat for the masses.”  Richard entered the dining room carrying a piping hot casserole.  
“Smells good.”  Rory perked up.  
“Oh, this was my favorite thing to eat as a boy. My gran used to make this for me whenever I was feeling a little sad. You know, if my cricket team lost or a girl I fancied turned up her nose at me.”  He told them as he served.  
“Well, then load me up because there was this really cute chick at the pharmacy today. I used my best material on her and nothing.”  Lorelai quipped.  
“Richard, at least let Pina serve it.”  Emily interjected.  
“No comment on my lesbian hilarity. My, how far we’ve come.”  Lorelai winked at Rory.  She tried to broach the subject at random times, trying to find a good way to bring it up.  Rory herself was too afraid to tell them.  She figured the right time would present itself eventually.  
“There’s nothing funny about being a lesbian, Lorelai.”  Emily told her without looking up from her plate.  She was looking at the food as if she expected something to crawl out of it.  
“Pina will serve tiny, proper servings.”  Richard objected.  “Johnny Machete needs to be presented in a heap.”  
“Johnny Machete?”  Rory asked with her mouth full.  
“That’s the name of this vile concoction.”  Emily answered.  
“It’s delicious.”  
“It’s not bad.”  Lorelai agreed.  
“It’s twelve different colors.”  
“Come on, Mom, eat it.”  
“It looks like someone already did.”  
“Emily.”  Richard coaxed his wife.  
“I’m sorry. I’m happy you’re happy, and to prove it, I will take exactly three bites of this before I throw it out.”  
“Thank you.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
“So, good food, good company. Now, let’s move onto good conversation. Rory, what is new in your life?”  Richard asked her.  
“Well, funny you should mention it. . .”  Rory said, wiping her mouth.  
“Okay.”  Lorelai jumped in.  “Mom, Dad, we have some really big news.”  
“I got my college acceptance letters back.”  
“Harvard, Princeton, and Yale.”  
“And after giving it a lot of thought, I have decided. I’m going to Yale.”  Rory held her breath, looking from one grandparent to the other, awaiting their reaction.  They both sat quietly as if they hadn’t even heard her.  
“Did you hear that – Yale!”  Lorelai announced brightly.  
“I’m going to Yale!”  Rory repeated.  
“That’s where you went, Dad.”

“You liked it, remember?”  
“Pass the Johnny Machete, please.”  Emily said.  
“I don’t understand.”  Rory was flabbergasted.  “I thought you wanted me to go to Yale.”  
“No, we didn’t.”  Emily replied hurriedly.  
“Absolutely not.”  Richard confirmed.  
“Mom, Dad, look, I know we’ve had our differences over where Rory should go to school, but that’s behind us now. She’s going to Yale, and that’s good. Really good.”  Lorelai reassured them.  She knew their hesitation was due to the fact that she herself had vehemently spoken out against Rory going to Yale, and they were afraid to reopen that Pandora’s box.   
“Nothing but smiles.”  Rory nodded to them.  
“We’re both very happy about it.”  Lorelai concurred.  
“Both.”  
“Her and me.”  Lorelai pointed to Rory and then herself.  
“She and I.”  Rory did the same.  
“Everybody in this room named Lorelai is over the moon about the ‘going to Yale’.”  
“Which means that everybody else in this room not named Lorelai can be equally over the moon about the ‘going to Yale’.”    
“I’m getting the champagne.”  Richard looked across the table at his wife, a grin spreading slowly across his face.  
“I’m calling the Talbotts.”  Emily jumped up from her chair.  
“Oh, make sure you gloat over that dimwitted son of theirs who couldn’t even get into Brown.”  Richard crowed.  
“She’s going to Yale!”  Emily cried.  
“She’s going to Yale!”  Richard was ecstatic.  “When I get back, I’ll teach you the fight song.”  He told her, his voice spilling over with pride.  They met at Rory’s chair and sandwiched her in a huge hug.


	12. Chapter 12

“Well, I must say I’m glad to see that even though the SATs are over, most of you are still taking your classwork seriously.”  Mrs. O’Malley, Rory’s communications teacher, told them as she handed back their graded tests.  “Most of you.”  She added as she handed one to Louise.  
“Michael Mason.”  Louise grinned at Madeline after the teacher passed by.  “Worth every wrong answer.”  
“Alright, before we continue, I would like to remind you that the Chilton Bicentennial celebration takes place next week.  The official sign up sheet for the speech contest has gone up in the back of the room. The contest will be held on Friday, and the winner will present their speech at the ceremony next week. Now, some of you may be saying to yourself, ‘Hey, I already turned in my college application. Why should I spend all this time entering a speech competition, which if I win means I have to give up a Friday night, when I can’t even use it for my resume? What’s in it for me?’”  
“Wow, that was spooky.”  Madeline murmured.  
“Yes, the speech will not go on your record. However, the bicentennial is going to be quite a prestigious affair. Past alumni and faculty will be there, and some of these people are now professors at the same schools you’re planning on attending. Plus, C-SPAN will be broadcasting the event live. All in all, it’s shaping up to be a very exciting event. Think about it.”  The bell rang and everyone started packing up their bags and talking animatedly.  “Oh, I almost forgot to welcome back Brad Langford. He returns to us fresh from Broadway where he’s just completed a successful run of Into the Woods. Welcome back, Brad.”  
“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”  Brad stood up and took a little bow.  
“Sit down, Mary Martin.”  Paris snapped at him and he visibly flinched.  
“Alright everyone, have a lovely rest of the day. I will see you tomorrow.”  Mrs. O’Malley dismissed them.  
“Rory, hi.”  Brad greeted her as she was about to leave.  She smiled, remembering him favorably from their Shakespeare class last year.  
“Hey Brad, good to have you back. How was Broadway?”  
“It was great, but Nathan Lane is a very bitter man.”  
“I’ve heard that.”  
“You know, I tell you, even more than the actual experience of performing live, the confidence it gives you in every aspect of your life, that’s the most amazing thing.”  
“Well, you do look rather confident.”  She told him genuinely.  
“Hey, it’s the new me.”  He shrugged.  
“You’re blocking the list.”  Paris growled at them.  Brad twitched again.  
“What’s that?”  Rory held a hand to her ear, pretending to listen.  “Will we please move so you may sign up for the speech contest? Why, yes, Paris, we’d be happy to. How kind of you to phrase it in that very respectful manner.”  
Paris ignored her, focusing on Brad instead. “Are you going to move, or do you need a five, six, seven, eight?”  She snapped her fingers in time with her words.  
“Paris, this time on stage has been a very growing experience for me. I’m no longer intimidated by you or people like you.”  Brad straightened his shoulders and faced her square on.  
“I’m thrilled to hear it, Chita Rivera. Move.”  She pushed past them and Brad skittered out of her way.  “Well, Gilmore, I certainly hope you’re signing up, too. It’ll be my last chance to trounce you with anything at this school.”  Paris addressed her at last.  
“My decision to do this will in no way depend on you, Paris.”  Rory told her.  
“I’m only saying it won’t be a totally satisfying victory just beating Jerome Robbins and the rest of the losers here. I’d really like to take you down also.”  Paris signed her name at the top of the list with a flourish and then strode out the door.  
“Boy, she is really up on her theater references.”  Brad observed with awe.

Rory eyed the speech contest list, then exited the classroom with Brad.

  
  


That afternoon Rory met her mom at the remnants of the Independence Inn.  Sookie was attempting to cook something in the halfway-functioning kitchen.

“Paris is going to drive me completely insane.” She complained as she entered the kitchen.  “Ooh, that looks good.”  She reached for a fork to take a bite of food.

“No!”  The entire kitchen staff yelled at her, startling her into dropping the fork.  
“Geez!”  
“Be happy you’re loved, hon. I got a Kit Kat in my purse.”  Lorelai told her, and they walked back out to the lobby.  The walls were still blackened and most of the rooms uninhabitable.  It was a very depressing place.  “So, tell me, what did Paris do now?”  
“It’s nothing, it’s just Paris.”  Rory rolled her eyes.  “There’s this speech contest for the bicentennial, and I wasn’t even going to enter it, but I don’t know – after her whole ‘it’s my last chance to crush you before graduation’ comment, I want to enter, I want to win, and I wanna dance around her saying ‘I win, I win, I win!’”  
“Wow, you’re getting more and more like me everyday!”  
“But I know it was petty and stupid and I should probably just ignore her.”  
“Yes, that is what you should do.”  Lorelai agreed.  
“Okay, that is what I will do.”  
“How come you weren’t gonna enter the contest?”  
“I don’t know.”  Rory shrugged.  
“You love doing school things.”  
“I don’t love doing school things when it involves the entire school staring at me while I’m doing ‘em.”  
“You had to give your vice presidential acceptance speech in front of the entire school.”  Lorelai reminded her.  
“Yeah, but I had to do that.”  
“Oh, so you’re just gonna go through life only doing what you have to do?”  
“Well, no.”  Rory frowned.  
“Because a person who wants to be a foreign correspondent for a living should probably embrace the opportunity to practice her speechin’ skills in front of a crowd.”  
“You had the motherly edge going there until you threw in the ‘speechin’ skills’ comment.”  
“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”  
“I know what you mean. Okay, I’ll go out for the speech.”  
“Good.”  Lorelai smiled.  
“And if I get to do the ‘I win, I win, I win’ dance, then so much the better.”  Rory grinned back with a competitive glint in her eye.

 

* * *

 

That Friday, Rory arrived at the communications classroom with her speech in hand, ready to beat Paris once and for all.  Paris was already there, along with a few other students, and she was hovering behind one girl and trying to read over her shoulder.  
“What?”  The girl finally snapped at her.  
“That just looks like more than four thousand words, but I’m sure you counted them.”  Paris told her.  
“I did.”  She defended, but started to look worried as she moved to another seat.  
“Good.”  Paris said, then moved on to someone else.  “Hey Shelly, good luck. Although I’m sure you’re going to be great. After all, there’s hardly anything on stage for you to trip over this time, right?”  Shelly looked ready to cry as Paris walked past her to sit next to Brad.  “ _I’ve got my beans at Grandma’s house, my magic beans at Grandma’s house._ ”  She sang under her breath.  
“Stop it.”  Brad told her.  
“ _I’ll take my beans, my magic beans, who’s got the beans, we need some beans, I love the beans_.”   
“You can’t rattle me.”  Brad asserted.  
“ _Into the woods at Grandma’s house._ ”  Paris kept on singing.  
“Look, I’m proud of my part, okay? The New York Times called me ‘winningly naïve’.”  
“ _Into the woods, into the woods, into the woods!_ ”  
“Stop it right now.”  Rory admonished her, feeling compelled to come to Brad’s aid.  
“I know, that is one annoying song.”  Paris said.  
“Leave Brad alone, and stop terrorizing everyone in this hallway.”  
“Terrorizing? What are you talking about, terrorizing? I’m simply talking to my fellow classmates.”  
“You’re trying to scare them into doing badly so you’ll win easier.”  
“I am not.”  Paris sat back in her chair and crossed her arms.  
“Oh really? And that magical bean recital back there?”  
“Hey, I was trying to give the kid some human contact. He’s been talking to nothing but a cow for a year and a half.”  
“There was a person inside that cow, I’ve told you that!”  Brad’s voice cracked.  
“Brad Langford.”  Someone called from inside the classroom, and Brad headed toward the door to give his speech.  
“I’m winningly naïve.”  He told them as he entered.  
“It’s amazing how you manage to hide those bolts on the side of your neck. What is that, just really good cover-up?”  Rory asked Paris scathingly.  
“Rory, lower your voice. People are trying to concentrate.”  Paris returned.  
“Wow.”  Rory shook her head.  
“Wow what?”  
“Your speech must really suck.”  
“Excuse me?”  Paris looked scandalized.  
“I mean, if you’re going to all this trouble to psych out everyone else, then you must know you have a loser there.”  
“Mind games.”  Paris grinned.  “Not your forte, cupcake. Stick to talking to losers off the train tracks, will you?”  
“You’re horrible.”  
“And I’m going to win.”  Paris’ grin widened as another girl sat next to her. “Cherry, hi. Man those braces are shiny.”

 

* * *

 

That evening as they were getting ready for Friday night dinner, the phone rang and Rory hopped to answer it as she was putting her shoes on.

“Hello?”  
“Rory Gilmore, please.”  A woman said.  
“This is Rory Gilmore.”  
“Please hold. I’m connecting Headmaster Charleston and Paris Geller.”  
“What? You’re what, hello?”  Rory felt dread creeping up her spine.  The last time she and Paris had both spoken with the headmaster it had not been good.  
“Miss Gilmore?”  The receptionist asked again.  
“I’m here.”  Rory said, starting to feel panicky.  
“Miss Geller?”  She asked next.  
“I’m here.”  Paris answered.  
“Please hold, I’m connecting Headmaster Charleston.”  
“Ladies, hello. I hope you’re having a pleasant evening.”  Headmaster Charleston greeted them.  
“Yes, sir.”  Rory told him.  
“Very pleasant.”  Paris added.

“Wonderful to hear. Well, let’s get down to it, shall we? I was very impressed with both of your speeches today. They were well written, well researched, and eloquently delivered. You should be very proud.”  
“Thank you, we were.”  Rory sighed in relief.  They weren’t in trouble, it was just about the speech contest.  
“Who won?”  Paris demanded.  
“Just the simple act of completing a task well is in itself a win, is it not Miss Geller?”  
“Yes, sir.”  Paris sounded almost contrite.  
“Wonderful. Anyhow, as I was listening to you both this afternoon, a thought kept rolling around in my head. I was thinking what a pity it is I will have to choose just one. But then I realized, ‘Hold on a minute here. I’m the headmaster at this school, I’m in charge of this competition, I can change the rules if I wish to.’ So I am.”  
“You are?”  Rory was confused.  
“You are what?”  Paris asked.  
“I am changing the rules. Instead of having one speaker at our bicentennial, we will have two. You will combine your speeches and present them together.”  
“You’re kidding.”  Paris exclaimed.  
“I assure you I am not. I think it will be an excellent way to pay proper tribute to our school. So, what do you think of my little plan?”  
“Well. . .”  Rory had no idea what to say.  
“It’s, uh. . .”  Paris seemed equally speechless for once.  
“Brilliant. Yes, I think so, too. That’s all. Congratulations. I would like the revised copy of your speech on my desk by Tuesday. Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”  And with that he hung up, leaving both Rory and Paris on the phone still in shock.  
“Well, look who’s suddenly decided to become Kofi Annan.”  Paris told her.  
“Excuse me?”  
“Charleston thinks we need to play nice with each other, so he screws up the whole bicentennial. This sucks.”  She complained.

“Yes, it does suck.”  Rory agreed.  
“So, what do we do now?”  
“Do we have a choice?”  
“Of course we have a choice. You could say no.”  Paris suggested.  
“Why could I say no? You could say no.”  
“I could not say no. C-SPAN is going to be there.”  
“Well, I like C-SPAN as much as you do.”  Rory retorted.  
“You do not.”  
“I do, too. Ask my mom, it’s all I talk about!”

They were both silent for a moment, realizing they were yet again being forced to collaborate.  
“So, I guess we need a game plan now.”  Paris finally said.  
“Okay.”  Rory sighed.  “We can meet tomorrow and work on it.”  
“Or we could do it over the phone.”  
“Over the phone?”    
“We’re just combining two speeches, Rory. There’s no reason we have to sit in the same room and stare at each other.”  
“Fine, whatever you want.”  Rory snapped.  
“Tomorrow night, six o’clock, I’ll call you.”  
“I can’t wait.”  
  


* * *  
  


The next evening, Rory was getting settled in her room with her speech to await Paris’ phone call when the doorbell rang.  Rory opened it to find Paris standing on her porch.  
“What are you doing here?”  
“We have a speech to write.”  Paris pushed past her and headed down the hall.  
“Yes, but we were supposed to do it over the phone. That was the plan.”  
“Well, it’s a ridiculous plan. We have to put two speeches together. We have to rehearse them, we have to hone our timing. None of that can be done effectively over the phone.”  
“But it was your idea.”  
“Oh, like you fought me on it?”  Paris snapped.  
“Of course I didn’t fight you on it.”  
“Well, okay then.”  
“What, ‘okay then’? Our conversation did not just come to a close. There was not a decision made back there just now.”  Rory followed Paris into the kitchen.  
“Look, I’m here, we should just do this and get it over with. Do you wanna study here or in your bedroom?”  Rory glared at her.  “Fine, I’ll go to a payphone. Do you have payphones in this town or are you still using a town crier?”  
“We’ll do it in here.”  Rory walked into her room and sat down at her desk.  
“Whatever you say.”  Paris followed her in.  “So, I think the first thing to do is to acquaint ourselves with each others’ speeches so we can judge who hit which point best. Here.”  She handed Rory her speech.

“Mine.”  Rory reciprocated.  
“Good. Let’s read.”  Paris bent her head to the task.  “Why did you use this font?”  She asked after a few seconds.  
“Because I was on the crack.”  Rory quipped.  
“Did you check these facts?”  
“Yes, I did.”  
“And the spelling of these names?”  
“Yes, I did.”  
“Rory?”  There was a hysterical note in Paris’ voice that made her look up from her reading.  
“What, Paris?”  
“I slept with Jamie.”  She answered.  “Last night, after we talked.”  
Rory was silent for a long moment.  
“Was it something I said?”  She finally asked, not knowing what to say.  
“I went over there to study and he lit a fire and then we did it. What are your thoughts on that?”  
“My thoughts?”  Rory was nonplussed.  For months Paris had been treating her like Public Enemy One and now she was confiding in her.  
“Because I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it myself yet. I’ve been going over it in my head. I mean, it seemed to go pretty well. The fire was nice and thank God he didn’t try to put on any ridiculous makeout music, and then it just happened. I was actually fairly surprised at the timing of it because I wasn’t wearing anything particularly alluring, and in the moments just before the act. . .”

“Oh, God.”  Rory had a sudden urge to put her hands over her ears and sing ‘lalala’.  
“We were actually discussing modern day Marxism in America, which is not what I would have deemed a ‘come and get it’ sort of conversation, but nevertheless, he came and got it, and I have to figure out what that means to me on a psychological level. So, I thought maybe if you and I could have sort of a healthy debate about it, I could come to some sort of reasonable conclusion about how I should be feeling right about now. So, come on, talk. What do you think?”  
“I –”  Rory stammered.  
“Are you pro?”  
“Well –”  
“Con?”  
“Um –”  
“Undecided?”  
“Paris, just stop talking for one second and let me get my mind around this.”  
“Sorry, go ahead, focus.”  Paris put her hands in her lap and stared intently at Rory.  “Could you focus faster because I really need some feedback here.”  
“Okay, so you are telling me that you and Jamie. . .”  
“Had sex.”  
“Okay, so... were you safe?”  Rory had no real frame of reference for this conversation.  
“Yes, it was a regular after school special.”  
“Well, was he nice to you?”

“Yes, he was very nice to me.”  
“And the two of you had discussed this?”  
“Well, I don’t know that we actually discussed it, it was just sort of implied.”  
“Implied?”  Rory asked.  
“Yes, implied. When you’re dating a boy and you’re together for a given amount of time and you’re not Amish, then the eventual occurrence of intercourse is inevitable.”  Paris told her.  “I mean, wasn’t it with you?”  
“What?!”  Rory squeaked.  She had no idea how the conversation had suddenly veered onto her love life.  
“With Dean?”  
“No.”  Rory answered vehemently.  
“No?”  Paris sounded surprised.  
“No. I never did it with Dean.”  Rory confirmed.

“You’re lying.”  Paris accused.  
“No, I’m not lying.”  
“So, you’ve never?”  
Rory hesitated.  This was her moment of truth.  So far no one at Chilton knew she preferred girls or about her relationship with Jess.  She had never wanted to deal with any potential fall-out, but now school was almost over.  Paris was looking at her with so much uncertainty, and had just confessed to a major life event.  Maybe it was time for Rory to come clean.

“Um, actually I have, just not with Dean.”  She started.

“No?  Well, who then?”

“So...do you remember my friend Jess?”

“That inveterate beatnik?  What about her?”

“She wasn’t just my friend…”  Rory raised her eyebrows, hoping Paris would catch her meaning and she wouldn’t have to explain.

“Wow.”  Paris sat back when she realized what Rory was saying.  “But, how did you know she was the right person?  For your first time I mean.”

Rory thought about it for a minute.

“For me, it wasn’t so much implied as inevitable.  Being around Jess was...exciting.  We were so drawn to each other we just couldn’t not be together in every way possible.”  Rory cringed at her own double negative.  It was just so hard to verbalize the way she had felt when she was with Jess.  Talking about her now was bringing back the ache in her heart.  The pain must have shown all over her face because Paris was staring at her with the strangest look on her face.  
“What happened?”  She asked softly.  
“She flunked out of school.”  Rory told her, averting her eyes.  Paris didn’t ask any follow-up questions.  That was one of the nice things about talking to Paris- she didn’t need to explain herself because Paris already understood.  “Anyways,”  Rory shook her head, trying to ward off the funk that was setting in.  “You can’t judge what’s right for you against what’s right for me. I mean, we are different, and Jamie and Jess are different.”  
“Well, yeah.”  Paris agreed.  
“Maybe it was the time for the two of you.  But if you don’t feel like you’re ready, you don’t have to keep having sex with him.”  
“I know.”  Paris nodded.  “I just wish I had the data to back it up.”  
“Some things can’t be analyzed.”  Rory told her gently.  They locked eyes, and Rory felt all of their animosity from the past few months melt away.  
“Listen, Rory, these last few months, Francie got things all twisted around.”    
“You let her get things all twisted around.”  Rory grumbled, more harshly than she intended.  
“I know. I just tend to believe the worst in people, you know?”  
“Oh yeah, I know.”   
“I’m. . .”  Paris trailed off, floundering under the weight of trying to apologize.  
“That’s okay.”  Rory smiled her most genuine smile, and Paris smiled back a little sheepishly.  
“Hello, Mommy’s home!”  Lorelai’s voice carried from the kitchen into Rory’s room.  
“We’re in here.”  Rory called back.  
“We’re, who’s we’re?”  Lorelai poked her head in through the open door.  “Oh, hey Paris. I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.”  
“It wasn’t planned.”  Paris looked at her hands, almost as if she were embarrassed.  
“Oh, well, I brought pizza if you guys are hungry.”  
“I’ll get the plates.”  Rory grinned at Paris and she grinned back.

 

* * *

 

Rory and Paris rehearsed their speech every day that week.  By the time Friday arrived they had it down to perfection.  Rory was actually looking forward to addressing the school, and couldn’t believe she’d almost let this opportunity pass.  
Headmaster Charleston was introducing the first speaker while Rory waited anxiously in the hall.  “After two hundred years of tradition, Chilton begins its third century of educating this country’s young students.”  
Paris hadn’t arrived yet, and it was not at all like her to be late.     
“Okay, I got the coats hung, and I slipped the girl a buck to get the really good hangers. You know, the ones with the dry cleaning foam strips still attached.”  Lorelai told her, then noticed the look on her face.  “Why are you frowning? Are you nervous?”  
“What? No.”  Rory shook her head.  “I mean, yes. Paris is supposed to be here and she’s not.”  
“ Well, maybe she’s just had a clothing crisis.”  
“Maybe.”  Rory was skeptical.  
“Do you wanna call her?”  
“I did, no answer.”  
“I’m sure she’s fine, there’s traffic. Just relax.”  Lorelai patted her on the back in reassurance.  
“Okay.”  Rory sighed.

Headmaster Charleston finished his introduction and walked offstage toward them.  “Rory, you and Paris should get ready, you’re going on next.”  He noticed Rory was alone and looked around.  “Where’s Paris?”  
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen her and I called her house.”  Rory could hear the hysteria in her voice.  
“Oh, dear.”  Charleston tsked.  “Well, I hope you know both parts.”  
“Okay, great.”  Rory squeaked as he walked away, now completely panicked.  
“You are going to be wonderful, trust me.”  Lorelai told her assuredly.  “Now, did anyone ever to tell you to picture the audience in their underwear?”  
“Yes.”    
“Well, don’t do it. I did it once and I had nightmares for a week. Bandos in Speedos…”  
“Say no more.”  Rory told her mom.  
“Oh, there she is!”  Lorelai cried.  
“Oh, thank you God, where?”  Rory whirled around and saw Paris walking toward them down the hall, but something was very wrong.  She was listing slightly to the side and appeared to be wearing pajamas and slippers.  Rory hurried over to her.  
“Where have you been?”  She demanded, but her anger dissipated the instant she saw the glazed look in Paris’ eyes.  “Paris, are you okay?”  
Paris shuffled right past her onto the stage without a word.  
  
  


“And it is with great pleasure that I introduce two young ladies that epitomize the very best of what Chilton has to offer.”  Headmaster Charleston quickly wrapped up his introduction when he saw Paris approach her podium.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Paris Geller and Rory Gilmore.”

Rory stood behind the podium next to Paris’.  "Apply yourself.”  She began.  “‘Get all the education you can, but then do something. Don’t just stand there, make it happen.’ Lee Iacocca.”  She glanced over at Paris, who was supposed to say the next quote.  Paris was frozen behind her podium, wringing something tightly in her hands.  Rory continued without her.  "’Education’s purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one.’ Malcolm Forbes. ‘Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.’ Oscar Wilde. These are only three of many countless views on the expansion of the human mind. I personally believe in all of them, and fortunately for me, so does Chilton. An institution not just because of age and standing, but because of ideas. Because it encourages ideas and it will accept nothing less than everything you have to give. This is the place where our lives start.”

Rory was prepared to give the whole speech entirely by herself when Paris suddenly found her voice.  
“You know, it’s funny, me standing here before you right now.  I’ve thought about nothing else for four years but this school, this big important school with all of its history and tradition and really super teachers. And I dedicated myself to it completely, heart and soul, believing in its power, believing in its ability to get me where I needed to go. Harvard. I thought of nothing else. Many of you out there can attest to that fact. I was on my way and nothing could stop me. And here’s the really funny thing – after four years of slaving away, I go home today and I find this.” 

She held up the paper in her shaking hands, a twisted-up small white envelope.  Rory’s heart sank.  

“I’m not going to Harvard.”  Paris continued in her quavering voice.  “I got the tiny envelope, the one that reads, ‘Sorry, Paris. We’re not interested. Try again next year. Love, Harvard.’ And the thing that’s really funny here is, who in the world deserves to go to Harvard more than me? Have you seen how hard I’ve worked over these past four years? I mean, can anyone here believe that I’m not going to Harvard?  I’m not going to Harvard.  I’m probably gay, and I’m not going to Harvard.”  The crowd gasped in shock.  
“Okay!”  Rory cried, rushing to Paris’ side and trying to calm her down.  She took her by the elbow and ushered her toward the exit, but Paris kept on talking.  
“And I have to tell you that if you asked me which of those two things I thought would be the least likely, it would not be the not going to Harvard.”  
“Thank you and good night.”  Rory said to the crowd as she hauled Paris off stage.  
“I’m being punished. I’m gay, so now I don’t get to go to Harvard!”  She cried as Rory dragged her away.  
“Paris, come on.”  Rory pulled her over to the staircase and sat her down.  As soon as she did Paris dissolved into tears.  Rory was taken aback, she had never seen Paris cry.  She had never seen her like this ever.  
“How could I have not gotten into Harvard?”  She sobbed.  “Five generations of Gellers have gotten into Harvard. Even if I was the Billy Carter of the family, the name is still supposed to carry some weight.  They had to really not like me for me to not get in.”  
“Oh, Paris.”  Rory dropped onto the step next to her and put an arm around her shoulders.  
“It’s like they know me or something.”  
“Stop. I know how much this meant to you, Paris, but you are going to get just as good an education at one of the other great schools you’re destined to get into. And you know what? Maybe it’s a good thing that you’re going to a different school than the rest of your family. You’ll be doing your own thing, starting your own tradition. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”  
“Really”  Paris leveled a look at her.  “And how would _you_ take it if you didn’t get into Harvard?”

Rory looked down at her feet.  She probably wouldn’t have come out on live television, but she wouldn’t be much better off than Paris right now.

“That’s what I thought.  I know you.  We’re the same.  That’s why…”  Paris trailed off and Rory frowned but didn’t press.  
“Paris, I don’t know why you didn’t get into Harvard, but you are so smart and so special and you’ll see, everything’s gonna be fine.”

At these words Paris looked up at her with tear-filled eyes full of hope, and before she knew what was happening Paris’ lips found hers.  Heat scorched from her mouth down to her toes and Rory broke away gasping.

“Paris, what-”

“I knew it, I knew you felt the same way!”  Paris kissed her again, joyfully this time, and Rory let herself get swept away in the taste of Paris’ lips, the touch of her skin, the smell of her hair.  But the moment was interrupted when Lorelai appeared from around the corner.  
“Hey, um, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”  She told them awkwardly.  
“Yeah, we’ve got everything under control, thanks.”  Rory said breathlessly.  
“Okay. I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”  She backed away slowly.  “No rush.”  
Rory looked back at Paris, suddenly feeling shy.

“That was incredible!”  Paris gushed.  “I mean, after what you told me about you and Jess it got me thinking and I realized I never felt drawn to Jamie the way you described and then when I thought about you...it all just made sense.”  Her words came out in a rush.

Rory was quiet.  How  _ did _ she feel about Paris?  Obviously there was an attraction there, she couldn’t deny it anymore, but did she actually have feelings for her?

“So tell me,”  Paris went on without hardly taking a breath.  “How was I? Too stiff? Do I need to relax my lips a little, maybe open my mouth more, make it more inviting?”  
Rory exhaled and bit back a laugh.  No need to over-analyze anything, it was just a kiss.

“That’s the Paris I know and love.” 


	13. Chapter 13

On Monday, Rory arrived at Chilton with a nervous knot in her stomach.  She had no idea how many people Paris would have told about their kiss by now.  She entered the school, holding her breath and preparing for an onslaught of questions, ridicule, she wasn’t sure what.

But no one even gave her a second glance.  Rory was confused.  It wasn’t like Paris to keep things quiet, history had proven that more than once.  But in fact, Paris was nowhere to be seen.  She didn’t show up the following day either, and Rory’s apprehension grew.  Was Paris that ashamed of what had happened between them?

As the week went on, Rory was feeling increasingly morose.  Chilton wasn’t the same without Paris, who had always been her guidepost.  She felt lost and alone, and even more confused than ever.  She was certain that Paris’ absence was her fault, and the guilt and worry was overwhelming her.  

By Friday Rory had convinced herself that Paris was never going to show her face again, so she decided it was time to brave the gossip mill and ask Madeline and Louise.  
“Have you guys heard from Paris?”  She asked them after class.  
“Heard what?”  Madeline’s brow furrowed.  
“Anything?”  
“She's not here?”  Louise looked around.  
“She's been gone for five days.”  Rory tried to keep her voice from screeching.  
“Huh.”  Louise frowned.  
“Didn't notice.”  Madeline shrugged.  
“Although, it did seem like there was a lot more air in here.”  Louise added.

Rory stomped away from them, wondering for what felt like the thousandth time why Paris was friends with those two.

Rory knew something had to be seriously wrong for Paris to miss school the way she did.  Calling her had proven just as fruitless as asking Paris’ so-called friends, so instead of taking the bus home after school she made her way to Paris’ house.  The nanny let her in and led her down the hall toward Paris’ bedroom.  She took deep breath and then knocked lightly.  
“Come back for the tray later, Nanny.”  Paris growled.

“It's not Nanny, Paris. It's Rory.”  There was no answer from the other side of the door. “Can I come in?”  
“I guess.”  
“Hi.”  Rory entered the room and shut the door behind her.  Paris was propped up in bed staring at her TV and looking very much like an invalid.  Rory wasn’t fooled.  “I brought a bunch of school stuff from the past few days.”  She dropped the books onto Paris’ bedside table, making a loud clang and rattling the lamp.  “If there's anything missing, I can bring it over later.”  
“Thank you.”  Paris replied without looking away from the TV.  “No offense, but my soap's starting.”  
Rory ignored her and sat down on the foot of the bed, interrupting Paris’ line of sight.  “So, you're sick, huh?”  
“You know what's wrong. You of all people.”  Paris glared at her and Rory looked down at her hands.  Paris’ gaze softened.  “That's Martin.”  She pointed at the TV.  “His sister-in-law got kidnapped and he thinks his former lover is behind it.”  
“Juicy.”  Rory mumbled.  After along silence she finally asked the question burning in her heart.  “So do you regret it?”  She couldn’t meet Paris’ eyes.  
“Regret what?”

“Kissing me.”

“Oh, don’t be daft.”  Paris admonished her.  “Just go ahead and make your announcement.”    
“What do you mean?”  
“Harvard!”  Paris cried.  “Did you get in?”  
“You know, we don't have to. . .”  
“I know you did. You've got that Harvard glow about you, the glow of destiny.”  
“Paris.”  
“Just tell me.”  
“I got in.”  Rory answered quietly.  Paris looked right through her, back at the TV.  
“Ugh, Amanda and Richard. I'm so over them.”  
“So that’s why you've been incommunicado lately.”  
“I've had Nanny hold all my calls, and the mail. My parents are away, so I've been totally Howard Hughes-ing it. “  
“So they don’t even know about Harvard?”  
“No.”  
“Well, don't you think they'll find out?”  
“How?”  
“Well, you not moving out might be a tip-off.”

“I'll get an apartment in Cambridge, buy a Harvard sweatshirt, talk about Mira Sorvino a lot. It's doable.”  
“Okay, you've got to stop this.”  Rory turned the TV off and looked Paris in the eyes.  Paris seemed to crumple right in front of her and Rory longed to comfort her somehow.  
“What happened?”  Paris asked her, voice shaking and eyes welling with tears.  “Harvard was my destiny.”  She wiped at her tears angrily.  “I was flipping through Harvard class schedules when you were still delighting to The Adventures of Gumby and Pokie.”  
“I was more of a Pee Wee Herman kind of gal.”  Rory joked, knowing Paris’ anger was not directed at her.  
“It's partly my parents' fault, they didn't brand me properly. I should've been at the 92nd Street Y or Brick Church.”  
“Prep schools?”  
“Pre-schools. It decides everything. But I'm not totally blameless. I found a spot in my interview that I'm sure doomed me.”  
“You recorded your Harvard interview?”  Rory shouldn’t have been so surprised.  
“The plan was to archive everything, then donate it to the university upon my demise. Little did I expect that my demise would come this early.”  Paris pulled a tape recorder out of her bedside table.  When she pressed play, her voice played back to her sounding even more shrill and manic than usual.    
“. . .shouldn't even be taken into account. This dovetails nicely into my feelings about population control. It's a little hot in here, can we do something about that? Anyway, population control has been dramatically successful in most European countries to the detriment of some, especially Italy, which is experiencing a marked drop –”  
“Do you think this has anything to do with –”  A man’s voice interrupted her.  
“Whoa, whoa, just let me finish my thought here.”  Paris’ voice shrieked.  
“But Paris. . .”  
“Please!”  
Paris pressed stop and slumped back into her pillows glumly.  
“Well, you said please, that's very polite.”  Rory said after a moment.  
“I sound like a meth addict. I might as well record the new Justin Timberlake over this.”  
“I hate that you're torturing yourself like this, in bed like this.”  
“Proust wrote all three thousand pages of _In Search of Lost Time_ in bed. If it's good enough for him…”  Paris turned the TV back on.  Rory immediately grabbed the remote out of her hand and turned it off again.  “Hey!” Paris protested.  Rory jumped off the bed and put the remote on a high shelf.    
“Bed is not a life plan, and you, my friend, need a life plan, so here it is.”  Rory leaned over her and pointed her finger for emphasis.  “You need to tell your parents about Harvard. You need to start taking calls from people. You need to check the mail so that you can see the other millions of universities that have no doubt accepted you and that are probably dying to be in the Paris Geller business, and you need to start by getting the hell out of bed!”  
Paris was looking up at her with an expression of shocked adoration.  “You did not just say ‘be in the Paris Geller business’.”  She giggled.  
“You know what I meant.”  Rory rolled her eyes and sat next to her on the bed.  
“I do know, and thank you.”  Paris’ eyes burned into hers now, and she took Rory’s hand.  “You are the only one who really gets me.  Hell, you’re the only one who even noticed I wasn’t in school.”

“I thought you hadn’t checked any of your calls.”  Rory reminded her.

“Yeah well maybe I was hoping you’d call.”  Paris ducked her head shyly and Rory was taken aback.  

“You were?”

“Well, that was some kiss.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”  Rory grinned at her, and Paris smiled back looking so open and vulnerable that Rory couldn’t help herself.  She pulled Paris into her arms and kissed her deeply.  Paris kissed her back with a fierceness that sent waves of heat up and down Rory’s spine.  She moved her lips down Paris’ neck and Paris gasped, fueling Rory’s desire.  She pressed her back against the pillows, holding her down with the weight of her body while her lips traced along her collarbone.  

“Well,”  Paris said in between gasping for breath.  “That settles it.  I am definitely gay.”

“Paris?”  Rory whispered into her ear.

“Yes?”  Paris breathed, trembling under her.

“Stop talking.”  Rory nibbled her earlobe and then proceeded to render her entirely speechless.

 

* * *

 

Afterward, they lay in Paris’ bed happily entangled and staring at the ceiling.  

“I wonder where we’ll be this time next year?”  Rory mused, thinking about their impending graduation.

“Well you’ll be at Harvard of course.”  Paris returned, and Rory immediately regretted saying anything.

“And you’ll be at one of your alternatives.”  She said quickly, trying to get off of the subject of Harvard.  
“There is no alternative to Harvard.”  Paris said sadly.  Rory sat up so she could look at Paris.  
“Except Princeton, Yale, Columbia, Stanford, Sarah Lawrence, et cetera, et cetera.”  She told her.  “Harvard is not the be-all, end-all.”  
“Well, maybe you're right.”  
“I'm unquestionably right.”  
“But I'm not jumping up to check the mail right this second.”  
“Good, don’t you dare.”  Rory lay down on her shoulder and put an arm around Paris.  
“Thanks, for being here.”  Paris whispered.  “Not just for this…”  She traced her fingers up and down Rory’s arm, raising goosebumps and making Rory shiver.  “Thank you for understanding.  For...caring.”

Rory smiled, and kissed her lightly in answer.  
“Wait,”  Paris said sharply a moment later.  “What do you mean, Harvard isn’t the be-all end-all?!”  She demanded.

“Oh, well, um…”  Rory stammered.  She was not ready for this conversation.

“You’re supposed to be just as pro-Harvard as me, even more so considering you actually get to go there.”  Paris narrowed her eyes at her and Rory pulled away.

“So, the thing is, I did the whole pro-con list and surprisingly enough Harvard did not come out on top.  I mean, you would think it would, I certainly did, but the pro-con lists never lie.”  She laughed hollowly.  

“What are you saying?”  Paris’ voice was cold.

“Well I’m saying that Harvard wasn’t the best choice for me so...I’m not going.”

Paris froze.  “Let me get this straight.  You got into Harvard, and you’re.  Not.  Going.”  She ennunciated every word with incredulous disdain.

“Actually I’m going to Yale.”  Rory’s voice was barely a squeak.

“Get out.”  Paris told her quietly.

“What?!  Paris-”

“Out!”  She screamed, angry tears running down her cheeks.

Rory gathered her clothes and backpack and hurried out the door.  She shut herself in the hall bathroom and gave herself over to sobbing.  When she could breathe again, she got dressed and let herself out. 


	14. Chapter 14

Rory got home that evening looking to tell her mom everything that had happened between her and Paris, hoping to talk it all out and get some perspective.  But Lorelai was nowhere to be found.  Rory called her cell number and Lorelai answered, sounding just as sad as Rory felt.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“I just talked to Mia.”  Lorelai’s voice was heavy.  “She had to close the inn, the fire did more damage than we initially thought.”

Rory sat down heavily on her bed.  The Independence Inn was the only childhood home she could remember.

“Oh my god.  What are you going to do?”

“I’m at Sookie’s, we’re kind of freaking out.  Now that we’re both out of a job, we don’t know if we’ll even be able to start our own inn this year.”  

It was going from bad to worse.  Rory’s problems suddenly felt small in comparison.  When she got off the phone, she sat with her arms crossed wondering what the future had in store.  

 

Later that night the phone rang and Rory hurried to answer, expecting it would be her mom.  Her heart started pounding when she heard Paris’ voice on the other end.  

“I just wanted to let you know I called my mom and told her about Harvard.”  Paris told her without preamble.

“Wow,”  Rory managed to say after she got herself under control.  Hurt and anger still seethed beneath the surface.

“She was quiet, which is probably better than I expected.  She agreed to tell my dad for me, so I dodged that bullet.”

“Well, good, I’m glad.”  Rory was quiet for a long while.  Finally Paris spoke again.

“I didn’t have it in me to tell her about the bicentennial speech and my epiphany.  I figure one gigantic announcement at a time is a good policy.”

Rory nodded, though she knew Paris couldn’t see her.  

“Look,”  Paris began.  “I know it’s not your fault that you got into Harvard and I didn’t.  We’ve always had this competition thing between us, honestly I think that’s what I like most about you, but I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”

Rory figured that was the closest she’d ever get to an apology, and she softened a little.  

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have.”

“So, you’re really not going to Harvard?”

“I’m really not.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”  Rory had nothing else to say just then.  “Bye, Paris.”  She felt a little bit better after their conversation, but still felt drained and decided to go to bed early.  It had been a really awful day.

 

* * *

 

Lorelai had decided to combat her worries about her current employment situation by throwing herself completely into planning their vacation that summer.  She and Rory had been saving every penny that had been given to them for birthdays and Christmas for years so that they could go backpacking through Europe after Rory’s graduation.  She spent that weekend browsing their travel books.

"Where's the ladies room?"  Lorelai flipped through her Spanish dictionary trying to look up phrases.  "More coffee, please.  Does Antonio Banderas live near here?"  
“We do not need to know how to say ‘Does Antonio Banderas live near here?’”  Rory chided her, trying to focus on her notes from the last week of history class.  
“Oh, yes, we do.”  
“Mom.”  
“When we're in Spain, we need to know how to say, ‘Does Antonio Banderas live near here?’ When in France, ‘Does Johnny Depp live near here?’"  
“When in Rome, ‘Does Gore Vidal live near here?’"  Rory added.  
“You know, you look like me, yet my ways are completely lost on you. Come on, honey, put that down. You've been studying all day.”  
“I can't put it down, I've got finals coming up.”  Rory had similarly been throwing herself into her schoolwork as a way to deal with all of the uncertainty in her life.  
“I know you have finals coming up, but you also have a piece of pie sitting there that you've been completely ignoring.”  
“Just let me get to the end of this page.”

“Oh, fine. Hey, how important do you think it is to be able to say, ‘Help, I'm bleeding from the head’?”

“Just pack the phrase books.”  
“No.”  Lorelai shook her head  “If we learn all the phrases we need, then the phrase books are one less thing we have to lug around.”  
“We will never be able to learn all the phrases in every language that we're going to need. Bring the books.”  
“We can learn enough. Plus, doesn't everybody speak English over there anyway?”  
“Ugly American, party of one.”  
“Fine, we'll bring the books.”  
“Okay, five minutes for pie.”  
“Finally!”  Lorelai grinned as her daughter dug into her pie, momentarily leaving behind the stress of finals.

 

The next morning, Lorelai crept downstairs to make coffee, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Hey.”  Rory greeted her as she entered the kitchen.  
“Oh!”  She cried, startled.  “Oh, God, Rory, you scared me.”  She placed a hand dramatically over her chest.  
“Sorry.”  
“I've been sneaking around here like an idiot trying not to wake you up.”  
“I've been up for hours.”  
“Why?”  Lorelai asked, concerned.  “Did you have a bad dream? The one where you finally meet Christiane Amanpour and she's really stupid?”  
“No,”  Rory answered, not looking up from the papers in front of her.  “I realized last night that at this rate, I will never finish all the work I have to do.”  
“What work?”  
“What work?!”  Rory gaped at her mother, then looked back down at her books, shaking her head.  “What work, she asks.”  
“Well, you know me and that dippy Christiane, takes a little while to catch up.”  
“Here.”  She handed her the list she had made.

“Things to do before graduation.”  Lorelai intoned.  “A list, of course. Study for finals, senior breakfast, senior awards, finish final edition of the Franklin, organize a new student government, convince Paris to give up student gavel.”  
“That last one is going to be the hardest.”  Rory sighed.  “Oh, and I forgot - man the yearbook distribution table this afternoon at the stupid Senior Palooza. Unbelievable.”  
“Well, I'll be manning the Booster Club Grad Night table at the same time, so we can feel stupid and abused together.”  
“I can't finish all this and sleep at the same time.”  
“You have to sleep, it's what keeps you pretty.”  
“Who cares if I'm pretty if I fail my finals?”

“Okay, you've got this so completely backwards.”  Lorelai quipped, then eyed her daughter.  “I think you're pushing yourself too hard.”  
“I made out a schedule.”  Rory defended.  “Every single moment of every single day from now until graduation is accounted for.”  
“I'm gonna go out and get the paper.”  Lorelai knew this was a losing battle.  
“Okay, well, don't show it to me because I have no time for recreational reading until June.”   
“Hey, could we move your, uh, chill session from four o'clock tomorrow afternoon to, uh, right now? That'd be great, thanks.”

“Hey, there is no chill time scheduled for four o'clock tomorrow, and the one thing I really don't have time for are your jokes, missy!”  Rory called after her as she escaped out the door.  

 

* * *

 

Paris was back at school on Monday.  She acknowledged Rory when she saw her but otherwise spent her time with Madeline and Louise.  Rory vacillated between hurt and relief.  She didn’t know where they stood, how Paris felt about her or how she felt about Paris, but she knew they would never figure it out unless they talked about it.  Unfortunately their final exams took precedent.  Rory had no time to even think about Paris, let alone talk to her. 

“Oh my God, I'm so tired.”  Rory complained later that week.  
“Here's a crazy thought, how about going to bed?”  Lorelai griped back.  They were both grumpy.  
“I have to study.”  
“Or, better yet, make a pot of coffee and once again, get no sleep. Just as good.”  Lorelai muttered, then grabbed Rory’s yearbook to distract herself.  “Look who became a soche.”  She started reading all the inscriptions.  “You have a lot of signatures in here, little girl.”  Lorelai felt a surge of happiness seeing how well-liked Rory had become at Chilton.  She still remembered her first year there, and how hard it had been for her to fit in.  
“Everybody signs everybody's yearbook. It's polite.”  Rory waved it off.  
“Hey, you know what's weird? A lot of the kids in here are calling you a valedictorian. Is that anything like a dirty skank, 'cause if it is I'll kick their plaid butts up and down the sidewalk.”  Rory didn’t even humor her with a smile, but Lorelai still felt overwhelmed with pride at her daughter’s achievement.  “Were you named valedictorian?”  Her voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, and you know what that means? One more stupid speech that I have to write, that I have no time to write, but nevertheless, I have to write.”  Rory said.  It was the truth, but not all of it.  The thing she was most worried about was Paris’ reaction tomorrow now that it had officially been announced.    
“Hey, listen, my little Holly Hunter in Broadcast News, I'm gonna let you freak out and study like a mad woman and stress yourself out over finals, but once they're over, we are gonna celebrate big time. . .'cause this is amazing.”  She pulled Rory into a hug and this time Rory looked at her.  
“Yeah, it is.”  She agreed, a slow smile lighting her face.  She had worked diligently for three years to keep up with the rigorous curriculum at her school, and knowing she had not only succeeded but managed to come out on top was more gratifying than she had thought possible.  They beamed at each other, both thinking about how far they had come and how much had changed since her first day at Chilton.  
  


* * *

 

The next day, Rory arrived at school full of worry about how Paris had received the news of her valedictorian win.  They hadn’t spoken much since their fateful afternoon together, except to work on the last issue of the Franklin and settling up their student council business.  Paris had been polite, respectful even.  It was weird.  

“So, how's your valedictorian speech coming along?”  Paris asked mildly in between classes.  Rory’s step faltered.    
“Oh, um, it's okay. Pretty standard. Boring. 'We love the school, blah blah blah.' No one listens to those things anyhow, so -”  She babbled nervously.  
“Relax, I'm okay with you making valedictorian over me.”

“You- what?  You are?”  
“Sure. I actually googled the personal histories of Ivy League valedictorians going back twenty-five years, and found some enlightening statistics. They don't necessarily do too well in later life, did you know that?”  
“No.”  Rory frowned.  
“Oh, yeah.”  Paris nodded.  “A lot of business failures, crumbled marriages, suicides, obesity.”  
“Okay…”  
“A bunch died in car crashes, several did time, one suffocated when his cat fell asleep on his face.”  
“Wow, thanks a lot.”  Rory stomped off to class.  When she had had time to calm down she realized that this was the first time all week that Paris had sounded like her old self.  She knew that was a good thing, but it made her wonder if being friends- or whatever they were- was worth all of this turmoil.

 

* * *

  
That weekend, Rory was finally finished with finals and felt lighter than she had in a very long time.  She was almost done with high school.  She had almost reached the goal she had been working towards her entire life.  The future seemed to hold endless possibilities.  

She was dreaming of what her life might be like at Yale while her mom worked around her, measuring and pinning the graduation dress she was making for her.

“Maybe we should bring it in a bit more.”  Sookie suggested from her perch in their oversize chair.    
“Oh sure, but first we'll have to use a medieval torture instrument to crush my ribs and flatten my spinal cord in order to accommodate your sadistic wish there.”  Rory joked.  
“Don't use subtlety on us. We're slow.”  Lorelai said.  
“I think she's saying that we don't need to bring it in anymore.”  
“All right take it off, you're done.”  
“Ugh, I should go. I've got a stupid job interview tomorrow morning, and you know what, I'm actually nervous.”  Sookie stood to leave.  
“Which place?”  Lorelai asked her.  
“Harrington's in Woodbridge.”  
“Nice.”  
“They want me to be their executive chef four nights a week. God, I can't imagine working someplace else. And without my Lorelai!”

“But it's only for a few months until you open your inn, right?  Aren’t you looking at the old Dragonfly property?”  Rory asked.  
“Uh. . .you haven't told her yet.”  Sookie groaned.  
“Told me what?”  
“I was waiting for an opportunity.”  Lorelai hung her head.  
“To tell me what?”  
“Which apparently is right now. Okay, um, hon, listen. We, um. . .we're not buying the Dragonfly.”  
“But if you wait, someone else is gonna buy it. You said so yourself.”  
“I'm gonna go, guys.”  Sookie hugged them both and turned to leave.  “Sorry to spill the beans.”  
“That's okay. I'll see you later.”  
“Mom, why put it off? I mean, I know the Independence Inn closing is a setback.”  
“it wasn't the only one.”  Lorelai agreed, then took a deep breath.  “Honey, we didn't get financial aid for Yale.”  
“What?”  Rory felt like her heart had dropped into her stomach.    
“No scholarships, no hardship money, no money-off coupons, no gift certificates, nothing.”  
“I don't understand, what happened?”  
“Well, irony of ironies, when I filled out the FAFSA information they required your dad’s information too.  His income added to mine took us out of the running for financial aid 'cause it made it look like we have money.”  
“But that’s not fair!  He’s not paying for any of it, he never has!”  Rory was almost shouting.  “We’ll send them proof - a bank statement, a letter from Dad. Here, take a picture of this couch - no one will think we have money after looking at this couch.”  She could hear the hysteria in her own voice and didn’t care.  She could feel her dream slipping away.  
“I tried everything, I swear.”  Lorelai was crushed.  
“Why didn't you tell me this?”  Rory asked her, quietly this time.  
“With everything that's going on, finals and all your personal stuff, I didn't want you worrying.”  Rory had of course filled her in on everything with Paris.  she hadn't realized it would cause her mom to keep something this huge a secret from her.  
I'll take a student loan out from the bank. That's what they’re for.”  
“Honey, I don't want you to be buried by loans the day you graduate from college.”  
“Well, then I'll major in something that'll immediately make me a lot of money when I graduate. I'll major in business or engineering.”  
“You are _not_ changing your major from journalism because of my lack of money.”  
“It's _our_ lack.”  Rory’s voice broke.  
“Look, if you need to work as a low-paid intern for a magazine or a stringer for some small-town newspaper or Tom Brokaw's toupee comber-outer before you make real money, then that's what you'll do.”  
“There has to be another way!”  
“I've looked. There's nothing.  But that’s why we have our savings, so you can go to college.”

“Okay, so, I don’t have to go to Yale.  I can do just as well at State.”  Rory tried her best to sound convincing.

“Absolutely not!  You have worked way too hard to give up on Yale now.”  Lorelai took her daughter by the shoulders.  “Look, I never got a chance to go to college, let alone Ivy League.  You have the opportunity, so take it.   
“This is so not fair to you.”  Rory told her with tears in her eyes.  
“I'll have my own inn one day, I promise. But Yale comes first.”  
Rory turned, wiping her eyes, and headed toward her room.

“What are you gonna do now?”  Lorelai asked after her.  
“Rail at God for awhile.”  
“Tell her I said ‘hi’!”


	15. Chapter 15

  
Lorelai stood in their living room surveying the piles of items they had designated to take to Europe with them.

“Hey, what happened to our packing elves who were gonna pack our packs overnight?”  She called down the hall toward Rory, who then came out of her room holding a black sweater.

“How about this?”  She asked, holding it against her to illustrate how it would look on.  
“You hate the dress I made you that much?”  
“Not for graduation, for Europe.”  Rory rolled her eyes.  
“Oh, it's perfect. It's black so it won't show dirt or wrinkles, and if you wear it with a moody look on your face like you're thinking of Bolsheviks, they'll mistake you for Simone de Beauvoir. Pack it.”  
“It's too heavy.”  Rory shook her head and went back into her room.  
“So, was that a trick question?”  
“We both need to cut weight from our packs.”  Rory joined her in the living room.  
“I am doing my part here.”  
“Well, you don't need five pairs of boots.”  
“I'll drop some boots if you drop some books.”  
“I can't drop books.”    
“You can't bring twelve books.”  Lorelai protested.  
“You also need to cut your undergarments. Don't forget, we'll rinse in Woolite every few days.”  
“This is going to an uncomfortable place.”  
“And your toothpaste - you have three full tubes.”  
“So?”  
“Why three?”  
“If I lose one, I'll have another to take its place.”  
“If you're bringing three tubes of toothpaste, I am bringing twelve books plus a dictionary.”  Rory countered.  
“Then I'm bringing a gallon of mercury which is one of the densest and heaviest substances known to man.”  
“I think the writing's on the wall here.”  
“Cancel Europe.”  Lorelai threw her hands up.  
“I've gotta run. I love my graduation dress.”  Rory shouldered her backpack and kissed her mom on the cheek.  
“I know.”  
“Hey, it's a shame about Europe being canceled, huh?”  
“That's okay. It's not supposed to be that great anyway, except for the cheese.”  
“Nine books for two toothpastes.”  Rory offered before heading out the door.  
“Deal.”  Lorelai grinned.

 

The next day, they had managed to stuff everything they thought they might need into their packs and decided to start preparing for their trip by wearing them around town.

“Coming through! Heavy packs.”  Rory called out to the town troubador before they ran him down on their way to Luke’s.  
“Out of our way, peace boy! No offense, love the song. Carry on. Go.”  Lorelai told him.  
They entered Luke’s and dropped their packs onto the floor before collapsing into chairs.

“Ugh. And wuss patrol, halt.”  
“I've never known such pain.”  Rory complained.  
“We are so not walking around Europe with those annoying things on our backs.”  
“But we're backpacking through Europe. How're we gonna do this without backpacks?”  
“But all the time we've talked about backpacking, I never actually pictured us with backpacks.”  
“Well, what were you picturing?”  
“Spry, accommodating European men with neat mustaches trailing after us, carrying our luggage, hailing taxi cabs, constantly reminding us how beautiful we are.”  
“No, it's just the two of us humping our backpacks around.”  
“Well, at least my new walking shoes are all broken in. If you count broken skin, broken toes.”  Lorelai starting untying her shoelaces.  
“Don't do that.”  Luke warned her.  
“Don't do what?”  She asked innocently.  
“Don't take your shoes off. This is a restaurant.”  
“I don't see a ‘No shirt, no shoes, no service’ sign.”  
“It's right here,”  He gestured to himself.  “Don’t do that.”  
“We're in pain, Luke.”  Rory whined.  
“But it's great that you guys are bearing it so nobly. And can you move these?”  He indicated their packs where they lay by the front door.  
“Can? No.”  Rory answered.  
“Would if we could? Debatable.”  Lorelai added.  
Luke grabbed the packs and shoved them out of the way.  
“Look at that.”  Lorelai exclaimed.  
“Spry and accommodating.”  Rory agreed.  
“Hey, would you grow a mustache and follow us around Europe?”  Lorelai implored him.  
“Sorry, got travel plans of my own.”  
“Really?”  
“Yup, I'm closing down the diner for a couple of weeks and taking Nicole on a little trip.”  
“Fun.”  
“We're driving through Western Canada and then taking a cruise up to Alaska.”  
“A cruise?”  Rory asked, surprised.  
“Intimate.”  Lorelai said.  
“I guess. Is it?”  Luke frowned.  
“The _looove_ boat.”  Lorelai sang.  
“What?”  
“A cruise is a good spot to get down on one knee.”  
“And do my ventriloquist act?”  
“And propose.”  
“I have no plans to propose.”  
“You don't now, but after you've had dinner at Captain Stubing's table and Isaac's served you up a couple of mojitos…”  
“Romantic cruises say commitment, my friend.”  Rory chimed in.  
“I am not committing and I am not proposing, so drop it.”  
“Okay, it's dropped.”    
“Really drop it.”  
“Did I not just say it's dropped?”  
“Heard it with my own ears.”  Rory nodded.  
“Thank you.”  Luke started to walk away.  
“The _looove_ boat.”  Lorelai sang after him.  Luke turned and glared at her.  “If you'd get a radio in here, I wouldn't have to do that.”

 

* * *  
  


Finally, the day of Rory’s graduation from Chilton had arrived.  She arrived at the school filled with nervous excitement.  She saw Paris across the courtyard and felt her heart start thumping.  Paris met her eyes and took a step toward her, then stopped when a woman and three children approached her.  
“Nanny, you brought the kids! Você trouxe as crianças.”  Paris cried happily.  
“Paris!”  The kids called in unison and rushed toward her.  
“Ah, minha queride Elzira, Catarina. E olindo Enrique, Antonio Banderas.”  She told them, grinning from ear to ear as they all hugged her.  Rory smiled, thinking she had never seen Paris look so happy.  Then she heard a familiar voice behind her.  
“Oh, excuse me. Hi, I'm looking for Rory Gilmore. She's the valedictorian. I'm her mom.” Lorelai was saying.  
“Mom.”  Rory waved to her.  
“Uh, no, wait, go away. I wanna tell a bunch of other people that I'm the valedictorian's mom and I'm looking for you.”  
“I've got good news I wanna tell you real quick. Come here.”  She pulled her into the hallway.  “Okay, you ready?”  
“I hope so, ready for what?”  
“You're getting your inn.”  
“What?”  Lorelai gasped.  
“Go put in a bid on the Dragonfly. Use your savings.”  
“What are you talking about?”  
“Grandma and Grandpa are paying for Yale.”  Rory beamed.  
“Now wait a minute.”  Lorelai frowned.  
“I explained the situation, they totally understand, and they're loaning me the money for Yale.”  
“When did they approach you about this?”  
“They didn't. I approached them.”  
“No.”  Lorelai shook her head emphatically.  
“I just left them now. It's a done deal, so go make the call, put in the bid, before someone else does.”  
“Rory, honey, don’t you understand, the Gilmores do nothing altruistically. Strings are attached to everything.”  
“There are no strings.”  Rory assured her.  
“No strings?”  Lorelai was skeptical.  
“No. I just have to pay them back starting five years after I graduate, and I have to start going back for Friday night dinners.”  
“Um, hello Pinocchio, those are strings.”  
“But it was my idea to resume the dinners, and I obligated just me. You are in no way a part of it.”  
“This can't happen, Rory.  We just got done being beholden to them for Chilton!  We were in the clear, free at last.”  
“I don't want you to defer your dream.”  
“You shouldn't have done this behind my back.”  
“Mom, Yale is my thing. I needed financing, I got it.”  
“Oh, those people, those master manipulators.”  Lorelai grumbled.  
“Mom, this was my idea. I'm the one manipulating you.”  
“They are manipulating you to manipulate me.”  
“How are they doing that?”  
“Rory, don't you see? If you go to Friday night dinners, Mom knows I'll go to just to be with you.”

“She wasn't thinking that.”  
“They're getting exactly what they want.”  
“Don't you see? We're all getting exactly what we want. It's a win-win-win situation.”  
“It's not.”  
“It is.”  
“Okay, maybe... maybe it is. But just once, just once, I want you to get exactly what you want, and me to get exactly what I want, and them to get nothing.”  
“Well, we'll see if we can't arrange that sometime. But the ceremony is about to start, I better get back out there. And go buy that inn!”  
Lorelai watched her daughter bounce happily to her seat at the front of her graduating class and shook her head in wonder.

 

Headmaster Charleston stood at the podium and addressed the graduation crowd.

“Invited guests, fellow faculty, honored attendees and students, welcome to the Chilton Academy graduating class ceremony of 2003.”  Everyone clapped heartily.  “This year's class is a distinguished assemblage, equal to or surpassing what has proceeded it. In its 200-year history, Chilton has not failed to produce a class that brings only honor to these grounds and to the academy's fine traditions. To begin, I would like to invite the student body president Paris Geller to lead us in the Pledge of Allegiance. Paris?”  
“As his parting shot to me, Charleston never responded to the three aspects of the pledge that I had an objection to and considered rewriting. That's not going to stop me from using air quotes.”  Paris whispered to Rory as she stood.  Rory bit back a laugh.

When Paris was finished, Charleston stepped back up.  Rory shifted nervously in her seat.  It was her turn now.

“It's a distinct pleasure for me to introduce to you our valedictorian. This young lady was a second-year transfer from a modest school where she distinguished herself immeasurably. She is humble, hard working, competitive when need be, and unparalleled in her academic achievements. Ladies and Gentlemen, Rory Gilmore.”

Rory walked slowly up to the podium, feeling ready to say goodbye to high school.  The crowd applauded again and Rory distinctly heard Lorelai wolf-whistle, making her smile.

“Headmaster Charleston, faculty members, fellow students, family and friends, welcome. We never thought this day would come. We prayed for its quick delivery, crossed days off our calendars, counted hours, minutes, and seconds, and now that it's here, I'm sorry it is because it means leaving friends who inspire me and teachers who have been my mentors – so many people who have shaped my life and my fellow students' lives impermeably and forever. 

I live in two worlds. One is a world of books. I've been a resident of Faulkner's Yoknapatawpha County, hunted the white whale aboard the Pequod, fought alongside Napoleon, sailed a raft with Huck and Jim, committed absurdities with Ignatius J. Reilly, rode a sad train with Anna Karenina, and strolled down Swann's Way. It's a rewarding world, but my second one is by far superior. My second one is populated with characters slightly less eccentric but supremely real, made of flesh and bone, full of love, who are my ultimate inspiration for everything. Richard and Emily Gilmore are kind, decent, unfailingly generous people. They are my twin pillars without whom I could not stand. I am proud to be their grandchild. 

My ultimate inspiration comes from my best friend, the dazzling woman from whom I received my name and my life's blood, Lorelai Gilmore.  My mother never gave me any idea that I couldn't do whatever I wanted to do or be whomever I wanted to be. She filled our house with love and fun and books and music, unflagging in her efforts to give me role models from Jane Austen to Eudora Welty to Patti Smith. As she guided me through these incredible eighteen years, I don't know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her.”

Rory gazed over the crowd and found her mother sitting in between her dad and her grandparents, tears running down her cheeks as she applauded.  They locked eyes and grinned at each other, revelling in the achievement they had both worked so hard and for so long to reach.  Then Rory stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, making Lorelai double over in laughter.  It was a perfect moment.

 

After the speeches, everyone lined up to receive their diplomas.  Rory ended up right behind Paris, as they were arranged alphabetically.    
“I swear, I do not recognize half of these people.”  Paris told Rory, then tapped the shoulder of the girl in front of her.  “Hey. What's your name, what's your story?”  
Then the announcer read Paris’ name.

“Finally, a name I recognize.”  She grinned widely, then strode forward to accept her diploma.  
“Lorelai Leigh Gilmore.”  The announcer said next.  Rory took a deep breath, then walked across the stage and shook the headmaster’s hand.

“Congratulations, Rory.”  
“Thank you, Headmaster.”

She finished crossing the stage, then stopped and moved her tassel from one side of her cap to the other.  The tradition suddenly made everything seem so final.  Her life was never going to be the same after this.  She stepped off the stage and saw Paris waiting there, looking a little nervous.

“I guess we should say our goodbyes.”  She told Rory.  “Nanny made me a special dinner. She makes a mean farturas.”  
“Well, good, I'm glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye, too.”  Her feelings around Paris were always so jumbled up, but one thing was for certain:  Paris had become a staple in her life.  As infuriating as she was most of the time, she was the one who had challenged Rory to push herself farther than she had thought possible.  And she was the only one who truly understood Rory’s fierce desire for academic excellence.  She couldn’t imagine her life without her, and now they might never see each other again.  
“Well, good luck.”  Paris offered her hand to shake, but Rory pulled her into a hug, tears stinging her eyes.  
“You know, it's weird,” Rory said, pulling away feeling awkward and vulnerable.  “Most of the time I really hated you.”  
“Yeah, I really hated you, too.”  Paris laughed, easing the tension a little.  Their eyes met, and before she knew what was happening Paris kissed her.  It was full of longing and unfulfilled promises, and then she was gone, walking away from her with her long blond hair trailing in the breeze.  Rory exhaled, letting the pangs of regret wash through her before collecting herself and going to find her family.  
  


“Hey.”  Lorelai greeted her, and she gave hugs all around.  
“Well, I think it might be time to present Rory with her graduation gift.”  Richard said.  
“Oh, you guys didn't have to get me anything.”  Rory protested.  
“Nonsense.”  Emily told her.  
“Uh, this one wouldn't fit in an envelope, so follow me please.”  Richard led them towards the parking lot.  
“We're really excited about this one.”  Emily clutched Rory’s elbow as they walked.  
“So am I.”  Lorelai agreed, and Rory looked at her in surprise.  
“Good.”  Emily smiled at her daughter.  They reached the parking lot and Richard turned to look at her, grinning proudly.  
“Rory, there is your gift. It's the one with the bow.”    
“Um, Grandpa?”  Rory raised her eyebrows.  Every single vehicle in the parking lot had a huge bow on top of it.

“Oh, for Pete's sake!”  He exclaimed when he turned and looked.  “Well, it was the only one there when I drove it up.”  
“You should've put a more distinctive bow on it.”  Emily chided him.  
“Well, how was I supposed to know that every kid at Chilton was getting a car?”  He defended.  
“You got me a car?”  Rory squealed.  
“We got you a car.”  Richard confirmed.  
“That's amazing! Thank you, thank you. Which one is it?”  
“Or did you get her one for every day of the week like the underwear?”  Lorelai quipped.  
“We got her one car.”  Emily answered.  “It's a little Prius. It's safe, it gets great gas mileage.  And it's the one that Leonardo DiCaprio drives.”  
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you guys.”  She hugged them both tightly.  
“We love you, too.”  Emily smiled at her.  
“And don't forget to call about -”  Richard started.  
“Insurance.”  Rory cut in.  “I'll do it the second I get home.”  
“Good. Congratulations, Rory. And thank you for your speech.”  
“You're welcome. I meant it, thank you for everything.”  
“Have fun in Europe.”  Emily said.  “Both of you.”   
“Thank you, Mom.”  Lorelai smiled.  
“When do you get back?”  
“The 27th.”  
“Terrific. We'll see you that Friday for dinner.”  Emily grinned, and the two of them took their leave.  Lorelai was visibly wilting.  
“Explain the win-win-win thing again.”  She demanded.  
“Everybody wins, that's what it is.”  Rory assured her.  
“Hm.”  She grumbled.

“Where’s Dad?  I want to tell him goodbye before we leave.”  
“Oh, he’s around here somewhere.  Let’s go this way!”  Lorelai took Rory by the hand and dragged her through the front doors of Chilton.

“Mom, wait.”  Rory tried to slow her down.  
“Hurry, hurry.”  Lorelai sped up.  
“This outfit produces a lot of wind resistance.”  Rory complained.  Finally they came to the bottom of the grand staircase and stopped to catch their breath.  
“Okay.”  Lorelai said, looking around like a cat on the hunt.    
“What are we doing?”  
“Leaving our mark.”  She answered.  “Got a knife?”  
“A knife? For what?”  Rory was getting suspicious.  
“Carving our initials. Come on, knife, knife.”  
‘Uh, like the switchblade I keep in my sock? No, I left it at home.”  
“I must have something in here.”  Lorelai rummaged around in her purse.  “Ah, safety pin, perfect!”  She held it up triumphantly.  
“We can't do this.”  Rory looked from side to side nervously.  
“Yes, we can. People need to know we were here.”  
“I'm in the yearbook.”  
“How about the wall?”  
“No, that's too out in the open. They'll trace it back to us.”    
“They'll see LG and RG and figure out it was us?”  Lorelai was skeptical.  
“There aren’t many dullards here.”  Rory reminded her.  
“Somewhere in the floor?”  
“This marble is two hundred years old. Harriet Beecher Stowe walked on this marble.”  
“Okay, the banister.”  
“Was donated by Robert Frost.”  
“The sconce.”  
“Was ceremonially lit for the first time by Thomas Edison.”  
“Geez, is there anything in this whole room that some famous dead person didn't have something to do with?”  Lorelai complained.  Then she heard some people walking down the hall.  “Ooh, cool it, cool it!”  She whispered to Rory, and then spoke very loudly and obviously. “And this is some very interesting architectural do-dads and hoo-ha's.”  
“And wingdings and tum-tum's.”  Rory mimicked her until the people had passed by.  
“That was close.”  
“Look, just carve it really tiny here on the baseboard of the wall, and do it reversed, so GL and GR.”  
“Oh, maybe it's not such a good idea.”  Lorelai relented.  
“And the madness passes.”  Rory grinned at her.  They turned and climbed up the staircase to leave.  When they reached the top, Lorelai stopped and turned around.  
“Wait, wait.”  She told her daughter.  “Look around for a second. Notice?”  
“Notice what?”  
“It's not so scary anymore.”  
Rory took it all in, remembering her first day here and how intimidating it had been.

“No,” she agreed.  “It's not.”  She had no idea what the future held for her now, but she knew that as long as Lorelai was by her side she could handle anything that came her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Part 1  
> To be continued...


End file.
